


Beckoning from Beyond the Mirror

by ParanoidInPink



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Doctor Strange (2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-12-02 00:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20948306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParanoidInPink/pseuds/ParanoidInPink
Summary: It's Halloween night. Cassie Lang is getting ready for the evening when she's met with an apparition and tragedy strikes. She is the first of many to fall into a fatal, comatose-like state that doctors can't explain. Scott is desperate and turns to the only man he knows who could possibly cure the supernatural scourge. Little did he know of the adversary he'd soon have to face.





	1. The Beckoning

**Author's Note:**

> There really are way too many non-canon romances and OC's with this fandom.

It happened on Halloween night.  
Maggie Lang was making the final touches of her costume makeup downstairs while her daughter was finishing getting ready in her room upstairs. The house was a bit louder than usual since her fiancé, Paxton, was celebrating the holiday in his own special way. She couldn't blame him having a small party; after all, he rarely had a holiday off. She was in the middle of applying her eyeliner when sudden boisterous laughter from the next room caused her to jump. Her typically steady hand wavered, causing a thick, bold line to stretch from her eye down to her cheek. She cursed and walked to the stairs. She didn't bother climbing them, instead projecting her voice loud enough to be heard. “Cassie,” she said, “I'll be a few more minutes then we can go.” She didn't wait for a reply before moving away to make a quick fix. She didn't want her daughter to have to wait much longer.  
Cassie Lang could barely hear her mom's voice past the music. She responded with a simple, “Okay,” before returning her attention to her costume. She was decorated in purple and black, with plenty of satin and lace, that ranged from the long skirt of her dress up to the signature pointed hat on her head. She had been informing her mom for weeks about what she wanted to be for Halloween, knowing from the very start that she wanted to be a witch. She was so happy when her mom brought home the costume a few days before that she had worn the garment almost every day since. Now it was finally the day and she had all the necessary accessories, including small traces of gothic makeup and the traditional extended nails. Everything was complete and she couldn't help admiring herself in the mirror.  
The mirror itself seemed to complete the ensemble. Her dad had bought it for her months ago, shortly after her room had been destroyed when her dad fought the jerk in the yellow costume. She had been staying with her dad for the weekend and he spoiled her with a day of shopping to help buy back some of the several items that had been lost in the aforementioned fight. One such item was the mirror to her vanity. Cassie wasn't much bothered by it and wasn't in any rush to get a new one, but when she saw the mirror being sold by a street vendor, she couldn't resist the impulse. She had done her practiced trick at grasping her dad's hand and looking up at him with pleading eyes. When she had caught his attention, she merely pointed to the mirror and said, “Daddy, isn't that mirror pretty?” She had then coyly added, “I want one just like that.”  
The purchase of the mirror was almost instantaneous. Cassie hadn't caught the price, but she could tell it was enough to give her dad hesitation. When she saw his reluctant look, she tried not to take advantage of the situation and merely dismissed it. “It's okay, Daddy,” she had said. “I don't need a mirror.” She had been earnest when she said it, yet that seemed to be the driving force that convinced her dad that the amount was worth the reward. Cassie was thrilled and couldn't stop thanking him for it.  
The mirror was beautiful. Its mahogany frame was accented with gorgeous crests that were embedded into the engraved patterns at each corner. There were small notches along the frame between the engraved patterns, something to which her dad showed dislike. “Are you sure that's what you want, peanut?” he had asked. “It looks pretty beaten up.”  
“I love it, Daddy,” Cassie was quick to say with a huge smile. “Thank you so much!”  
Her dad had smiled back proudly. “Anything for you, sweetie. You're my world.”  
She really loved her mirror, and loved it even more now when she saw how great she looked in its reflection. She spun a couple times before stopping with a flourish, admiring how the skirt danced around her ankles. Her gaze moved all over her outfit, relishing in her new role. “I put a spell on you,” she said to the mirror, extending her arm in a grand gesture and pointing her small index finger to her reflection. “And now,” she paused for dramatic effect, “you're mine.”  
To Cassie's great surprise, the mirror spoke back to her. “On the contrary, my dear,” said a woman's voice. “It is you who is mine.”  
Cassie took several steps back as a face appeared in her mirror. It was a haggard, aged face with wrinkled skin and decaying teeth. Curly, gray hair sprouted from a withered head, followed suit by a body forming from the neck. The old woman was dressed in an outfit not dissimilar to Cassie's, though it lacked the flair and was made with emerald fabrics instead of violet. The old woman offered a smile and gingerly extended her arm to Cassie, palm up and welcoming.  
Cassie shook her head. “Mommy,” she called, but her voice was hardly a shout. She was so scared by the sudden appearance that she was finding it hard to find her voice. She knew it would be impossible for him to hear her, but she couldn't help the desire to have her dad with her now. “Daddy!”  
“Hush now, Cassie,” said the woman, bringing her other hand up to press her boney index to her red lips. “We don't wish to be interrupted.”  
As soon as her name was spoken, Cassie was filled with a sudden coldness. Her body grew stiff and unresponsive while her eyes were now fixated on the woman in the mirror. She could no longer speak.  
The woman began to hum a tune before gently singing, “Hush now, my child, it must be this way; too weary of life and deception. Rest now, my child, for soon we'll away into the calm and quiet.” The woman beckoned for Cassie to come closer, her smile never wavering. “Come now, my child, I'll take thee away into a land of enchantment.”  
Cassie found she could not resist. Her body shivered and the song made her eyes droop, yet somehow she was able to step forward, despite her previously being unable to move. She felt lifeless, and weightless as she slowly took one step after another. The woman continued her humming and Cassie's legs continued to move ever forward. As she got closer to the mirror, she reached forward and caught glimpse of her reflection. Her reflection did not match her movements, showing that her body was still several feet back and was now lying on the floor with a dead expression on her face. Cassie barely had time to pay her reflection any mind, too distracted by the calming lullaby the woman continued to hum.  
As Cassie's hand touched the mirror, she felt no resistance. Instead, it rippled at her touch as if she was reaching into water. Her hand pushed through easily, followed by her arm and then her leg. Cassie could feel tears falling down her cheeks as she fully stepped into the mirror.  
…  
Scott Lang was at his apartment when he got the call. It was a lot sooner than he had expected.  
That night he had opted out of an evening with his new girlfriend, Hope, instead leaving his night open for his daughter. He had made an arrangement with Maggie that, if she got to go trick-or-treating with her, then Scott would have her for the rest of the night. He would rather have been the one to take her trick-or-treating, but he didn't want to cause a fuss. So he counted his blessing and prepared his apartment for her visit. He made sure to clean up and kicked out his roommate for the whole night. Luis wasn't happy with the arrangement, but was sympathetic enough to leave. Scott appreciated him all the more for it.  
He was on the phone with Hope when the call came through. He hadn't expected it for another couple of hours, at least, so he was surprised to see Maggie's name on his Caller ID. He perked with a sense of hope that something may have come up and he'd get the chance to take Cassie trick-or-treating after all. With a quick apology to Hope, he put her on an idle line and answered the call from Maggie.  
He cleared his throat and attempted to speak as nonchalantly as possible. “Hey, Maggie, what's going on?” There was a sudden discomfort in his stomach. Before Maggie even had a chance to say anything, he could tell that something was wrong.  
“Scott, it's Cassie,” Maggie was saying in a calmed panic. “We're at the hospital—I have no idea what's going on—there's something wrong—!” She stumbled over her words several times as she tried to say too much all at once.  
Scott stood and took a few uncertain steps, not sure where exactly he was going when he said, “What's wrong with Cassie? What's going on?”  
“I just said I don't know!” She sounded on the brink of hysteria. She took several breaths before saying, “Look, we're at UCSF right now. We're waiting to be admitted. I just thought—“ she choked as she struggled to keep in control of herself. After a few more breaths, she tried again. “I just thought you should know.”  
Scott felt restless and paced the room. “I'll be right there,” he said after impatiently waiting for Maggie to finish. He reached for the keys, realizing too late that Luis had the van.  
“It's okay, Scott,” she started to say but Scott could barely hear her. He was focused too much on how he was going to get out to the hospital. “I'll keep you posted.”  
“No, no,” Scott was saying as he desperately searched the apartment. It was just a means to keep his body busy as he thought. He was hoping that there was some magical chance that he would stumble across a set of car keys to a car he forgot he purchased yesterday. “I'll be there as soon as I can.”  
“Scott, I—“ the was a pause on the line and Scott stopped to listen. There was a voice in the background but he couldn't make heads or tails of it. “We're getting a room. I gotta go.”  
“Wait, Maggie,” Scott try to interject but she hung up before he even finished the sentence. He cursed as he continued to blindly search his pockets for his magical key. His phone rang in his hand and he immediately picked it up. “Maggie!”  
“No,” said a female on the other line. Her voice was cool and almost teasing. “But good try.”  
Scott knocked himself in the head a couple times with his phone as he attempted to regain his wits. He forgot he had Hope waiting on the other line. The phone must have done a call-back to remind him after he and Maggie's call was cut. “Hope!”  
“That's better—“  
“Hope, I need a favor! Can you give me a ride to UCSF?”  
“UCSF?” she parroted, alarmed. “Scott, what's wrong?”  
“I don't know,” said Scott with obvious irritation. “Maggie's there. She says there's something wrong with Cassie. Luis has the van and I can't—“  
“I'm on my way,” she said in a calming voice. There was the sound of movement in the background as she got up and began to move. By the rate of her breathing, Scott could tell she was hurrying. “Just stay calm and don't do anything stupid.”  
After their call ended, Scott found it was very difficult to stay calm and not do something stupid. He had called Maggie several times during his wait for a ride but she wasn't answering his calls. More than once he was tempted to shrink and fly an ant out to the hospital. It would be a slow traveling time in too long of a distance but at least he would feel busy. Sitting around and waiting for a ride was unbearable. Minutes felt like hours and Scott paced, sat sound for a minute, called Maggie, then paced again. His process was rinsed and repeated countless times over before his phone finally rang.  
It was Hope. She was downstairs and waiting for him. It took all his effort to not just spare time by jumping out the window. In a show of self-restraint, he took the stairs and even spared the time to lock the door behind him.  
As he got in the car, Hope greeted him with a calmness that he desperately needed. He loved her more than ever before as she drove with a stoic tenacity. She weaved through traffic as she raced to the UCSF Medical Center while maneuvering in a controlled fashion as to not draw attention from police. She asked a few inquisitive questions, but when Scott didn't have an answer other than “I don't know,” she stopped at her attempts to gain more knowledge of the situation. Both of them would hopefully figure things out once they reached their destination.  
Before the car was even put in park, Scott was out the door and rushing to the emergency room doors. Hope kept up yet stayed at a safe distance behind to give Scott plenty of space to manage the situation. To Scott's surprise, he wasn't the only frantic parent in the waiting room. Several parents were standing around, crying for attention as they held their children. Scott took a glimpse at the closest child being held in his mother's arms.  
The boy's face was pale and his gaze expressionless. His eyelids were only half opened with the occasional blink, the only evident proof that he was alive. Scott felt a sense of dread as he went to the front counter. The nurse behind the counter looked troubled and trying to balance the world with her own two hands. Scott tried to wait for her to regard him instead of interrupting whatever she was doing with the computer, but he couldn't wait any more.  
“I'm sorry,” he said, a bit clipped, “Cassie Lang. She was just admitted here about an hour ago—I need to see her. She's my daughter.”  
“A lot of children were just admitted,” said the nurse. It was hard to tell if her tone was annoyance or sympathy. “Give me a second; it's just me here.”  
Scott anxiously tapped his fingers against the counter top as the woman typed away at her computer. Hope stepped up next to him and offered an encouraging squeeze on his bicep. “You need to stay calm,” she said, soothing. “Being worried won't help the situation.”  
“How can I not be worried?” Scott countered as he ran his hand down his face. “I have no idea what's going on.” He looked over his shoulder at another child in the waiting room. She was a young teen, slumped in one of the chairs with an elderly woman holding her hand. Just like the young boy, the teen had the same passive look on her face as she gazed out at seemingly nothing.  
“All the more reason to stay calm,” reasoned Hope. “You need to be prepared for anything.”  
After several seconds painfully bled into minutes, Scott grew more and more impatient. It was a blessing when the nurse finally returned her attention to him. “I'm sorry for the wait,” she said sympathetically before giving the room number.  
Scott slapped his hand on the counter in triumph. “Thanks.” He was through the door in seconds. When they got in the elevator and had a moment of privacy, Scott crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “What do you think is going on?”  
Hope took a similar pose, though choosing to stand straight. “I don't know,” she mused. She had never seen anything like this before. The state of the children was beyond her comprehension. She dreaded the thought that it was some form of secret experimentation and only children were being influenced. She shook the thought out of her head. It seemed Darren Cross influenced her in more ways than one. “Perhaps some form of allergic reaction? Some contaminated candy, perhaps?”  
Scott shook his head. “I've never seen an allergic reaction like that before.”  
“I had never seen aliens before, yet they walked the streets a few years ago. Anything's possible now, Scott.”  
Scott didn't want to think of the possibility of some space alien pathogen or ingredient afflicting his daughter. He ran both hands down his face. “Please, don't tell me about aliens poisoning kids' candy.”  
“That's not what I was saying,” said Hope with a twinge of regret. “I just meant that it could be something we're not familiar with. It could be something small that we're just not considering.”  
Mulling over the words, Scott slowly nodded. After all, Cassie might not be experiencing the same symptoms as the children he saw in the waiting room. Lord, he hoped his Cassie wasn't going through that. The elevator dinged as they arrived on their floor. Scott let out a heavy breath and pushed off the wall. He was going to find out soon.  
When Scott entered the room in the pediatrics wing, he was greeted with the expectant glances from both Maggie and Paxton. Realizing it was him, though, they seemed to deflate.  
“Scott,” said Maggie in surprise as she stood from her seat next to the bed.  
Scott's eyes fell onto the bed, finding Cassie prone and pale, staring up at the ceiling. The dark colors of her costume made the pallor of her face stand out all the more and Scott's gut twisted. He stepped past Maggie and crouched down next to Cassie, grabbing her hand. She did not respond to his touch. Scott took several breaths before trying to speak. “What happened?”  
Maggie shook her head. “I don't know.” Her mascara had smeared across her cheeks after her attempts at wiping away her tears. There was a dirty tissue in her hand, ready to be used when necessary. Her voice was shaky as she said, “When I went upstairs to get her, she was lying down on the floor. I thought maybe she tripped on her dress but the doctor says she didn't hurt her head.” She spoke very quickly, like she was trying to say as much as she could before crying again. There were tears already welling in her bloodshot eyes.  
Paxton stood up and put a comforting arm around Maggie's shoulders. “The doctor doesn't know what's going on either,” he explained for Maggie. “He says other children are coming in with the same thing.”  
Hope walked forward, trying to come off as unimposing as possible. “We saw some similar kids on our way up. We hoped,” she paused as she glanced at the unresponsive Cassie, “that Cassie wouldn't be in the same way.”  
“Oh, Cassie,” said Scott as he ran a hand through her hair before caressing her cheek. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed lovingly. He didn't move from his place as he looked up at Maggie. “Where's the doctor now?”  
“He's checking on the other children.”  
Paxton continued by saying, “He was checking to see if there's any correlation between her and the others. We're waiting for him to come back.”  
“We were hoping you were him when you walked in,” admitted Maggie.  
With a sour look, Scott returned his attention to his daughter. “Sorry to disappoint.”  
“What has the doctor said so far?” asked Hope.  
Paxton took the honor of filling them in. He explained how, medically speaking, she was fine. There was nothing evidently wrong with her outside of her exterior appearance. It was as if she was in a very deep sleep. Her heart rate was low and her breathing shallow, but not at a dangerous rate. The doctor conjectured that it might be a state of temporal mental lapse. However, with the influx of children, that hypothesis seemed less and less likely.  
More than half an hour passed before the doctor eventually came back with grim news. With the ranged age, gender, and social standing of the various admitted children, he was finding it harder and harder to diagnose their condition. He decided it best to keep the children overnight. They would all be moved to a shared room to help the staff observe all the afflicted carefully for any variation of their condition as well as constant monitoring for any changes.  
Scott and Maggie stood next to Cassie's new bed. He could feel Hope's hand squeezing his in support and he silently thanked her with a squeeze in return. Paxton was next to Maggie, his arm rubbing her back in his own sense of comfort. Cassie was no longer in her costume and was instead donned in the garish hospital garb. The entire time they were changing her and moving her, Cassie didn't react at all. She just continued her blank stare, even as the evening dragged past midnight. Scott hated seeing her in those clothes, in that bed, in this room. No parent wants to see his child in such a state.  
A specialist in neurology was called in on emergency to help mend the epidemic and lead the recovery effort. Dr. Vitani was an experienced doctor in her field who also practiced in oneirology, the study of dreams. Once she was briefed on the situation at hand, she went from bed to bed to check on each individual child as well as greet each parent that was still present. Within the late hours of Halloween, the victims multiplied from a couple handfuls to a couple dozen. By the time the doctor finally made her way to Scott and his company, it was well past three in the morning.  
Dr. Vitani's exhaustion was evident on her face as she extended her hand and sympathies to Scott. Having been called in so suddenly, she didn't have much of a chance to rest between her last shift at her hospital to the emergency situation in San Francisco. Since her arrival, she was constantly moving in a professional determination. When Scott shook her hand, it was a somber exchange, both of them too tired to put much enthusiasm into it.  
“I'm sorry it took me so long to get to you,” she said as she touched her fingers to her temple. Her accent was strained around the vowels and her voice was weary. “If I had known earlier, I would have been over to meet you much sooner. I'm Dr. Vitani.” As she continued to speak, she turned her attention to Cassie. She leaned over her, using her thumb to fully open Cassie's eye as she shined a light into it. She moved her penlight left and right, up and down but Cassie's eyes did not follow it, completely unaware of its presence. The pupil did not even dilate at the bright light and Dr. Vitani frowned. “I heard young Cassie here was the first one admitted.”  
“That's right,” said Maggie with a yawn. “Or so, that's what the doctor said.”  
Dr. Vitani checked the several monitors hanging aloft Cassie's bed. “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”  
“Not at all,” said Maggie, stifling another yawn. Maggie answered the typical medical questions with a sense of boredom, like she had answered them several times before. No, Cassie showed no signs of fatigue are illness. No, Cassie does not take any prescribed or recreational drugs. No, Cassie didn't have any candy. No, Maggie didn't recognize any of the other victimized children or their parents. Several more questions and answers were exchanged, none of them helpful if Dr. Vitani's expression was anything to go by.  
“Thank you so much,” said the good doctor as she concluded her questions. She wrote down a few statements on the clipboard she carried with her. “I'll be back with you as soon as I can. For now, how about you all rest for a while? You will be no good to Cassie if you are dead on your feet.” She winced. “Please excuse my expression.”  
Though reluctant, they moved out of the massive room to a nearby waiting room. Scott pulled Hope aside and gave her a long hug. It was comforting to feel her arms around him and he didn't want to let go. Hope eventually pulled away and rubbed her hands along his arms. “You okay?” she asked with a tender voice.  
Scott wanted to nod, but he slowly shook his head. “I don't know. I don't think I'll be okay until Cassie is.”  
“I thought you'd say something like that. How about I get us something to eat?”  
Scott smiled at her offer and took her hands in his own. “Thanks, but that's okay. You've been great, really. But I know you work in the morning. You should go home and get some rest.”  
“And you?” asked Hope with an analytical glance. “You think you can keep running on adrenaline?”  
Scott rolled his eyes at her tone. “I'll be fine, Hope. I promise. Thank you so much for today.” He leaned in close and she closed the gap with a tender kiss.  
“Keep me updated,” she said with a light warning. She idly ran her fingers through his hair before leaving.  
Scott watched her go and almost collapsed once she was out of sight. Lord, he was tired. It took a great amount of effort to walk himself back into the waiting room to join Maggie and Paxton. However, as he entered the room, he found it was just Maggie. The poor dear looked like she was about to fall out of her chair. With a quick glance to the other parents in the room, Scott moved to sit next to her. “Where's your fiancé?”  
Maggie jumped at his question. She looked at him with exhausted eyes. “He has to work tomorrow. I told him to go home.” She looked around. “Where's your girlfriend?”  
“She has to work tomorrow,” said Scott. “I told her to go home.”  
“Is that so?” Maggie put her elbow on her knee and rested her chin in her palm. She offered a wan smile but couldn't find anything else to say. Her eyelids drooped and she sagged in her chair.  
Scott smiled back at her with his own weary smile and stood. “I'll get us something to eat.”  
Scott roamed through the halls aimlessly until he was able to find himself a vending machine. As he grabbed a couple bags of snacks, his eyes caught sight of Dr. Vitani down the hall. She was leaning over a counter in a position very similar to Maggie's. The doctor's dark skin contrasted against the uncomfortably white walls and floor, giving her the impression of a warm beacon of hope amidst the cold interior of the hospital. Scott couldn't resist the draw towards her as he opened his small bag of chips. He leaned forward on the counter next to her, resting on one elbow as he offered the bag to the doctor.  
She was taken by surprise by his sudden appearance but was quick to collect herself. She offered a grateful smile and grabbed a couple chips from his bag. “Thank you,” she said.  
Scott waited for her to eat her chips before asking the million-dollar question. “Any idea what's going on, Doc?”  
She let out a heavy breath and leaned further onto the counter. “Mr. Lang, right? To be honest, I do not know. I have never seen a phenomenon like this before—and that is saying a lot. It is almost on the verge of supernatural.”  
“Supernatural would fit the holiday spirit,” joked Scott dryly.  
“Keep in mind that it is still too soon to tell. It is important to stay positive. Positive thoughts bring positive results.” She used her elegant fingers to massage her temple. “I wish I could say more, Mr. Lang, but I do not want to mislead you. I have to cross-reference some data before I can make a proper diagnosis. I may have to call a few colleagues for a second opinion as well.”  
Scott frowned, almost losing his appetite. “It's really that strange, huh?”  
“Strange, indeed,” said Dr. Vitani as she stretched. “If only Stephen was still in practice,” she said to more herself than to Scott. “If anyone could come up with a diagnosis, it would be him.”  
With a hint of hope, Scott straightened. “Stephen? Who's that?”  
“Doctor Stephen Strange,” she said with an admiring smile.  
Scott quirked his brow, completely focused on the conversation now. “Doctor Strange? The sorcerer?”   
Dr. Vitani gave him an incredulous look. “No. He was a neurosurgeon. A proper artist with a knife, you could say. But he was also brilliant with diagnostics. He could merely look at a patient and immediately know what was wrong. I have not seen him since our internship, but I heard he was in an awful car accident. Badly damaged his hands.” She looked down at her hands and flexed them a couple of times. “No one knows where he is now.”  
Scott deflated as she rambled on. “That's a shame,” he mumbled. He wanted to kick himself for getting his hopes up.  
“I'm sorry,” she said, “I'm rambling.”  
“No, it's fine. We're all tired here.”  
She regarded Scott for a moment and smiled. “I promise, Mr. Lang, I will do everything I can to help your daughter and the others.”  
“Thank you,” said Scott sincerely. “We really appreciate it.”  
“I need to get back to work. Thanks for the crisps,” she said before walking away.  
When Scott made his way back to the waiting room, Maggie was completely slumped forward in her chair. Had it been any other moment, Scott would have taken a picture at the ridiculous pose. He struggled between the options of either letting her sleep or waking her up to eat something. He opted for letting her get some rest while she had the chance. Without either of them having a car, they were both stuck at the hospital and would remain stuck for some time. Scott wasn't bothered by it. He wouldn't have wanted to leave anyway.  
The room was mostly quiet. Most of the other parents weren't around and the ones that were quietly kept to themselves. The only overbearing sound was the small T.V. hanging off the wall. It was covering some boring news about politics that Scott really didn't care about. He never cared about politics before, but after the Sokovia Accords, any likeness he had for them was completely gone.  
As Scott sat back in his chair and ate at his chips, a thought kept spinning around in his head. The whole phenomenon with the children really was teetering towards the supernatural. Being more of a man of science, it was difficult for Scott to accept, but he couldn't deny the facts staring at him right in the face. And there was one particular man that came to mind that might be able to help with such an unusual circumstance: Doctor Strange. The sorcerer, not the neurosurgeon. But, if he recalled correctly, Strange was all the way in New York. How could he possibly ask for help?  
Scott pulled out his smartphone and opened up the web browser. If there was any place online to find someone, it was facebook. He spent countless minutes searching the various results, but none of them were the Stephen Strange he needed. He groaned and sagged further in his chair.  
Several months back, Doctor Strange had called on Scott to help him with some monster infestation problem in New York. It was such a rattling experience that Scott barely remembered any details other than the aliens and the monstrous creatures. He tried desperately to remember what street they had been fighting on, but for the life of him he couldn't remember. The only solid place he remembered from his venture into Manhattan was their pit stop at Well Haven, NYC's Hospital. There was a doctor there who tended Doctor Strange exclusively. Perhaps, if he got a hold of her, she could get a hold of him.  
The problem was, Scott couldn't remember her name.  
He cursed his lack of memory and changed his search method. He directed his attention to the Well Haven website and scrolled through the long staff listing. He didn't know how much time he wasted scrolling mindlessly through the names before one popped out. “Palmer!” He was so excited at recognizing the name that he couldn't help but shout it.  
Maggie almost fell out of her chair at the sudden exclamation. She looked around as she tried to remember where they were and why. “I fell asleep?” she asked, unbelieving.  
“Here,” said Scott as he paused in his search to offer her the second bag of chips.  
“Thanks,” she said, surprised to see it was her favorite brand and flavor. She opened the bag eagerly and dug in as she watched Scott twiddle on his phone. “What's a palmer?”  
“She's a doctor,” said Scott. He scrolled through the website until he found the hospital's phone number. He stood. “Maybe she can give us some help.” Before Maggie could ask any more questions, he excused himself and made the call.  
After several rings and an automated message menu that took way too long to travel through, Scott was finally able to speak to a member of the staff. “Hi, sorry, but I'm looking for Doctor Palmer,” he said in greeting. “Christine Palmer, is she there?”  
“I'm sorry,” said the woman on the other line, “but Doctor Palmer usually works durking the day. Try calling again closer to noon. Is it an emergency? I can take a message.”  
Scott almost left a message, but he didn't know exactly what he would say that could possibly make sense. “No, that's fine. I'll try again later. Thanks.” With a curse, Scott buried his phone in his pocket and banged his head on the wall.  
…  
Scott didn't know how long he had been sleeping in the waiting room chair. All he knew, upon waking up, was that his back was screaming at him for his poor choice of sleeping arrangement. He audibly groaned as he stretched his aching muscles. A few pats on his knee reminded him of his company and he looked to his left to see Maggie sitting next to him. There was a Styrofoam cup in her offered hand and he accepted it. By the smell alone he could tell it was coffee. He took a drink and grimaced at the bitter flavor.  
“Paxton didn't know what you liked,” said Maggie as she drank from her own cup. “So he just got you black.”  
Scott did a quick sweep of the room. The two of them were the only two parents left. “Where is he?”  
“He just came in before work to check on Cassie and drop off the coffee.”  
Scott straightened in his seat. “How is Cassie?”  
Maggie shook her head with a sense of despair. “No change. She hasn't even closed her eyes. The doctor says she's asleep but...” She waved her arms in uncertainty. “One doctor mentioned something about it possibly being a seizure. That makes no sense, though, right?”  
Scott sighed as he stood. “I don't know at this point.” He pulled out his phone to look at the time. It was a little past eight in the morning. He waved his phone to get Maggie's attention. “I'm going to try and get another specialist.”  
Maggie looked at Scott with disbelief. “Since when do you know doctors?”  
“I just know one doctor,” said Scott. “And he might not even be able to help. But at least it's a try.” Maggie didn't look very convinced but she dismissed him. After finding a place of privacy, Scott made another call to Well Haven Hospital.  
“I'm sorry,” said the woman on the other line, “but Dr. Palmer doesn't work today. Are you a friend of hers?”  
Scott grasped a handful of his hair as he thought over the question. He didn't want to wait another day; he wanted to speak to Doctor Strange now. He considered ways he could manipulate the situation to try and get Dr. Palmer's personal number. “You could say that,” he finally said. “It's an emergency and I'm trying to contact her. This is the only number she gave me, though.”  
The woman hummed in thought. “If it's an emergency I can try and give her a call for you.”  
“That would be great,” said Scott. It wasn't the direct approach he wanted to take but it was something, at least.  
“What message would you like me to relay, sir?”  
Scott paused. The short time he met Dr. Palmer he was dressed as Ant-Man. Sure, he could say that's who he was—that might even get the process moved a little faster—but then the woman on the other end of the phone would know Ant-Man's number. That could cause complications down the road.  
“Tell her that Ant-Man needs her help and have her call me back as soon as she can, please.”  
“...Ant...man?”  
“Yeah, he's an Avenger,” said Scott a little defensively.  
“I've never heard of him.”  
Scott wavered at hearing the sudden distrust in her voice. “A lot of people haven't. Please, she'll know who he is. He really needs her help—it's an emergency.”  
There was silence on the other line for several seconds. Scott hoped it was because she was writing what he was saying instead of silently judging his absurd request. “What number do you want me to give her?”  
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Scott said before providing his number. “Thank you so much.”  
“Sure thing,” said the woman dryly. “I'll let the doctor know.”  
After their call ended, Scott met back up with Maggie before checking up on Cassie. Her and the other children were now bundled under several layers of blankets and had breathing apparatuses. Scott was instantly on alert. “What happened?” he asked as he looked around.  
“I don't know,” said Maggie, looking just as confused.  
They flagged down a nurse who left to fetch Dr. Vitani. When the doctor joined them, she looked tired and her thick hair was a mess, but she still looked at them with sympathy and carried an aura of professionalism. She explained to them that an extended amount of REM sleep could be damaging. The body is unable to adjust its own temperature and breathing can be erratic. “It is more out of precaution than anything else,” she had assured, though there was an uncertainty to her words. “They are not exactly dreaming, but the body is acting like it is and that can be very dangerous. If they do not recover from this soon, it is hard for me to say what could happen.”  
“Did you call your colleagues?” asked Scott, struggling to grasp onto some optimistic lifeline.  
“Yes, and even people I have not met. Several minds are working on this, even from far away. I know it is hard, but we need to be patient “  
With those parting words, Scott and Maggie did their best to kill time while waiting for any changes. They eventually spotted a local news crew finally coming to cover the story. Scott wondered if Doctor Strange watched the news. What would be the chance of him seeing it if the national news decided to do a news coverage?  
Hours passed on slowly and Scott used that time to update Hope on everything so far. She offered words of support in return, saying she'd come by after work to bring them some food. He was in the middle of replying to a text from Luis when Maggie sat down next to him.  
“It's strange,” she said idly. Scott looked around the room for half a second before realizing what she meant. “There haven't been any other children coming in this morning.”  
“Maybe the parents haven't noticed yet?”  
“It's a school day. I mean, if there were more sick kids then they would have been in by now. And why only kids?”  
That had bothered Scott too. There hadn't been a single adult with the same symptoms. “A prepubescent thing, maybe?”  
Maggie scoffed. “I doubt it.”  
Scott's phone suddenly rang and he looked down to see that it was a number he didn't know calling from New York. He leapt to his feet as he answered. “Hello, this is Scott.”  
“Hi, um, I'm trying to reach...Ant-Man. Are you the guy I'm supposed to call?”  
“Yes, yes. This is me. Me, I'm, uh, me. Ant-Man.” Scott smacked the phone against his temple before continuing. “Is this Dr. Christine Palmer?”  
“Yes it is,” she responded with a pause. “I heard there was an emergency. How can I help?”  
Scott gave Maggie a thumbs-up and she responded with one of her own, an excited smile on her face. “Hi, I'm sorry to bother you like this but I'm trying to get a hold of Doctor Strange.”  
“Stephen? Why?”  
“Well, it's kind of hard to explain.” Scott scratched idly at his head as he explained in his best detail what had happened to Cassie and the other children in the hospital. Christine remained quiet on the other end of the line as she patiently listened, giving appropriate responses when necessary. “So, I thought, maybe,” Scott was concluding, “Doctor Strange might know what was going on or what to do. Or, if you know anything that'd be great too.”  
“This is definitely over my head,” she admitted. “But, you're right, Stephen might be able to help you. I can give you his address, if you want.”  
“He's not exactly in driving distance,” said Scott. “I'm in San Francisco.”  
“Oh! Okay, let me think.” There was the sound of tapping on the other line. “I don't think he uses a phone anymore. I know he does e-mails but I don't know how frequently he uses his computer, especially now.”  
“Is there any way to contact him immediately?” asked Scott, trying and failing to be patient.  
“It's hard to say. He has a tendency to just show up and leave without warning. Sometimes he brings friends. Wait, you were with him before, right? With the other Avengers or whatever?”  
“You remember me!”  
“I do now. How did you contact him then?”  
“He kind of contacted me. He used a portal or something.”  
She sighed. “That sounds about right.” There was another pause followed by a sound of discomfort. “I suppose I could go to his place.”  
“You can? That'd be great!” Scott's excitement momentarily overruled his ability of observation. Then his brain caught up with him and he realized her reluctance. “Is there something wrong?”  
“No, it's just—complicated. We're kind of...” she trailed off for a moment before catching herself. “No, it's fine. It will take me a while to get to him, though. And he might not even be home. Or even in his body.”  
“I think I recall Cap' saying something like that before,” he said with a moan.  
“I'll do what I can for those kids,” assured Christine. “I'll contact you if there are any complications. Please, inform me if anything changes for your daughter.”  
As the day dragged on, things only seemed to get gradually worse. The children's breathing apparatuses were no longer a thing of precaution, but of necessity. The children's breathing had become too erratic and their heartbeats had decreased to a dangerous low. The doctors had tried some forced physical activity to get the hearts pumping, but the bodies had grown stiff with severe hyperpolarization and barely moved. Medication was applied to increase the blood pressure, but nothing was working. The children were dying.  
“I am so sorry,” Dr. Vitani had told them in a forced tough demeanor, “but the children are fading away. If we do not do something soon, they may not make it past tomorrow.”  
The news was too much for Maggie. She collapsed next to Cassie's bed and cried into her daughter's sheets. Scott would have joined her on the floor, but he was numb to the point of paralysis. He stared down at Cassie's pale face and blank eyes. His brain was having a hard time keeping up with the dreaded information. He couldn't lose Cassie. She was the only light in his dreary world, something he realized far too late while he was in prison. She couldn't die. She just couldn't.  
His world teetered and Scott stumbled out of the room, breath heavy. He didn't know how far he walked before he slumped against a wall and slid down to the floor. He pulled his legs up to his chest and cried into his knees.  
…  
A tap on his shoulder bolted Scott out of his state of shock. He thrashed like one would when being awoken halfway through a nightmare. He sniffled and wiped his face before looking up to see Hope looking down at him with a frown. When he didn't get up, she crouched down and sat next to him. She leaned into him and reached her hand over to grab his.  
“Are you okay?” she asked, just above a whisper.  
“No,” said Scott in a gruff voice. “Cassie...is going to die. If I can't save her, she's going to die.” He rung his hands through his hair.  
Hope struggled with what she could possibly say to help soothe him. “How can I help?”  
“You can't.” Scott cleared his throat several times as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. There was no notification of a missed call or text. “I need to get Doctor Strange.” He began to text out a message for Christine, updating her on the news. “But he might not even be able to help now.”  
Hope tried to read the text over his shoulder without being imposing. “Is he another specialist?”  
“Kind of,” said Scott after sending the message. He decided not to elaborate. He wasn't in the mood to explain to Hope about the existence of magic, let alone the fact that he was willing to give it a try.  
“I'll drive up to his door,” offered Hope, “and drag him here. Where is he?”  
Scott dug the heel of his palm into his eye. He was getting a massive headache. “New York.”  
There was a long moment of tension between them as Scott burdened the weight of the situation and Hope tried to think of some way to alleviate it. The moment stretched on for minutes until Hope patted Scott gently on the arm. “Let me take you home,” she offered.  
“I don't want to go home,” said Scott with the shake of his head.  
“All right,” she said with submission, “I can bring you straight back.” She ran her fingers gingerly through his hair. “But you could use a shower. And change of clothes. Have you eaten today?” On cue, she showcased a doggy bag from a fast food restaurant she had brought with her.  
It felt good to feel her nails trickle through his hair and he found he couldn't put up much of an argument. “I'm not hungry,” was all he could muster.  
“Too bad. Because you need to eat something.” She stood and offered a hand which Scott reluctantly accepted. “When Cassie gets better, you don't want her to see you like that, do you?”  
The two of them stopped by Cassie's bed to check up on both her and Maggie. Paxton had since arrived and was doing his best to console her. Scott felt guilty for leaving her like he did, but he wouldn't have been much good to her anyway. He announced that they would be back and then they left for the half-hour drive back to the apartment.  
True to his word, Scott wasn't hungry and was only able to eat one of the burgers Hope had bought for him. In a careless fashion, he shoved the other burger in his jacket pocket to get cold. Luis had called a couple of times on the ride back but Scott ignored them. He'd be seeing Luis at the apartment and wasn't in the mood to talk on the phone. Besides, he wanted to keep his phone idle in case Christine called.  
When Hope pulled up next to the apartment, Scott gave her a long hug. “I'm going to take the van back to the hospital. You can head on home.”  
“I can meet you back at the hospital,” she insisted.  
“No, that's fine,” said Scott. As much as he enjoyed her company, if things did get worse he didn't want Hope to see him completely break down. They were close, but not that close yet. “Thanks, Hope. I'll let you know what happens, promise.”  
Hope was skeptical but eventually conceded. She gave Scott a departing kiss before sending him off. “Let me know when she gets better,” was the last thing she said before leaving.  
Scott made his way up to his apartment slowly, each step becoming more of a struggle as his lack of sleep caught up with him. He was struggling keeping his eyes open when he finally reached his door. He struggled with his key and lock for several seconds until the door was unlocked and opened for him from the inside. Scott looked up to see a very excited Luis in the doorway.  
“Yo, Scotty, you're not gonna believe this, bro!”  
Scott rubbed at his eyes as he made his way past Luis and inside. Luis' volume was way too loud after the quiet drive Scott just had. His headache intensified with every word his friend said. “Not now, man,” Scott said as he made his way to the kitchen. He went straight to the fridge. Never before had he needed a beer so badly.  
“No, seriously, man. I figured you'd still have Cassie so I went to the movies after work, right? And it was the bomb, man. You should have seen it. There was so much action in it yet it was interspersed by short, impactful periods of exposition and character development that kept the plot flowing. There was so much going on between the guns and the cars and all the stuff being blown up that I was just blown away by it. It was so invigorating—“  
“Luis!” Scott was usually more patient when Luis went on his ecstatic rants, but right now Scott just didn't have the patience for it. He grabbed his beer and turned to look his friend in the face but Luis was talking again.  
“Sorry, Scotty, but listen,” he said, his words quickening in his excitement. “I get back from the movies but when I get inside there was this weird guy, right? And you know me, bro, I was about to knock him out. But then he's all, 'Where's Ant-Man' and I'm all, 'I don't know who that is, man.' 'Cause, you know, I got your back, bro.”  
Scott's dwindling attention span heightened as he focused more on Luis and what his roommate was saying. “Wait, what?”  
“I know, right? But he didn't believe me. He said, 'I don't have time for this. I need to see Scott.' Then I was like, 'Whoa! You know Scott is Ant-Man?' Sorry, bro, it just kind of slipped out. So then I tried to call you—“  
Scott pulled out his phone to check when Luis had called him. The first call had been over fifteen minutes ago, the second a minute after. “Why didn't you leave a message? Where's the guy?”  
“I was going to leave a message but, you know, I've been playing this new game that came out and it's really good and my phone died. So I tried charging it but your charger doesn't—“  
“The guy, Luis, what about the guy?!”  
“The guy? Oh yeah, he's in my room.”  
“He's what?”  
“Well, you didn't answer your phone and we didn't know where you were so he said he'd wait for you.”  
Scott was already moving across the apartment to Luis' bedroom. “So you shoved him in your bedroom?”  
“He said he needed some privacy then he did some Jedi mind trick thing on me and took my room.”  
Scott opened the door and turned on the light in one quick flourish. Hovering just above the bed, in a lotus position, was none other than Doctor Strange.


	2. Enter the Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, guys, stop with the OC's and non-canon romances.

Strange decidedly did not like Halloween.  
For years Halloween passed by mostly unnoticed for Strange. Sure, every other year or so he'd have to go through the practice of tip-toeing around smashed pumpkin on the street to avoid ruining his expensive shoes. Otherwise, the entire month of October could have been deleted from the Mayan calendar and Strange wouldn't have noticed it.  
However, ever since his training in Kamar-Taj, he has since hated the so-called holiday. It was his second Halloween since his practices of magic and his first Halloween as a Master of the mystic arts. He had said to the Ancient One that he wasn't ready, to fight in the mystic war or become the Master of a Sanctum, yet she still believed in him. Her faith in him was undaunted and undeserving. He has since done everything he could to earn the trust she had too willingly bestowed upon him.  
Halloween night was one of the hardest testaments of his worth. Not only was the veil between the living and the dead thin to the point of tearing, but the barriers between the dimensional realms were also at their weakest. With the London Sanctum Sactorum still in reparation and the limited supply of magic practitioners, Strange and the other Masters were run ragged. There had been preparation the days leading up to the dreaded holiday, but it wasn't enough. As far as Wong experienced, it was never enough, this particular year being especially barraging.  
Incorporeal undead Allips haunted mental wards, their screams of despair trying to influence the already emotionally faltering to neutralize their own existence. Small Darkmantles were dropping on naive victims, using their tentacles to asphyxiate anyone who was brave enough to traverse a dark alley. Doppelgangers were infiltrating homes and devouring the unsuspecting families of the one they had impersonated. Young Magmin were sprouting in lit fireplaces and using their fiery touch to set homes and businesses and anything else ablaze. Aquatic, humanoid Skum were prowling the sewers and attacking any poor toshers who were trying to make a quick buck on a rare find. Stirges flew through the skies like large bats and used their proboscis to suck out the blood of any living creature that occupied the roof of a tall building. Xorns were using their large mouths and sharp teeth to shred through cars, trailers, or anyone unfortunate enough to be decorated in jewelry and cross their path. Shadow Hounds were prowling parks, their evanescent claws slashing at couples trying a romantic retreat. Those were only to name a few of the misfortunes that happened that evening.  
The cleanup continued through to the next day and Strange was exhausted. He had blacked out at least once over the forty-eight-hour excursion and, had it not been for Wong, he would have done so again several times over. Wong loved to remind Strange that his body couldn't handle all the things that he was trying to do with it. Strange saw it more as a challenge than a threat. However, Halloween night had made him come to realize the hard truth of his current limitations.  
It infuriated him.  
It was the first of November and the unwanted excitement had finally died down almost to the point of normalcy. Strange would have been out to help more but Wong practically grounded him to his room. Strange complained loudly and argued adamantly but he eventually conceded.  
He was currently standing in front of the Anomaly Rue, looking out the decorated window as he massaged his aching hands. They didn't strain or tremble when he was casting his magic, but in the intervals between spells his hands screamed at him in a painful passion to remind him of his physical disability. He flexed his hands several times and watched with intrigue at the scar tissue as it stretched then returned to its puffy nature. The strain of the last couple of days had made the skin and muscles particularly irritated with him. Wong had provided a tea with some herbs that, on occasion, helped with the chronic pain, but when Strange tried to take a drink the trembling had gotten so bad that he almost sloshed the majority of it on his robes. He had since given up on the attempt to hold a cup or try a fork. His stomach was so upset after the exertion that he wasn't sure if he could eat anything anyway.  
He entertained the thought of getting an early rest for the evening, but he just didn't feel comfortable sleeping when there was still so much left to be done. Sure, Wong might have restricted him to the Sanctum, but he wanted to be available if anything occurred; or if Wong decided to let him free. Instead, he decided to take the opportunity to meditate. Hopefully, that would help restore some of his energy as well as alleviate the throbbing migraine he had been sporting for hours.  
He didn't know how long he was lost in his thoughts when he felt more than heard the faint knock on the Sanctum's front door. Strange relieved himself from his lotus position and made his way downstairs to find the one and only Dr. Christine Palmer standing at his doorstep.  
“Christine,” Strange greeted in obvious surprise. He stepped aside and let her in before continuing. “What are you doing here?” He was happy to see her, but it was out of the ordinary for her. She had never visited before and she only knew about its location because he had told her about it practically a year ago. Not only that, but there was something about her, like a discoloration of her aura which told him that something was wrong.  
Christine gave the interior of the Sanctum a curious yet modest glance before looking at Strange. “I got a phone call from a friend of yours. I think he's in trouble.”  
“A friend?” Strange didn't really have many of those. And the people he did consider friends wouldn't have contacted Christine for help.  
“I think his name's Scott?” At Strange's confused look, she continued with, “Ant-Man?”  
“Ant-Man?” His encounter with the small hero had been half a year prior and their little adventure together hadn't been in the most pleasant of circumstances. It was such a brief occurrence that they didn't really get a chance to exchange pleasantries. That would explain why he contacted Christine first. “What does he need?”  
“He needs you. There's something weird happening with the children in San Francisco. His daughter included. The doctors there can't pinpoint what's causing it and it looks like,” she took a moment and pulled up something on her phone, “it's getting worse.”  
She offered Strange the phone but he hesitated to grab it. With the way his hands were trembling now he didn't want her to see him struggle with holding the device. His hesitation lasted only half a second, though, before he reached out and looked at the screen. It was a text message not five minutes old from an unsaved number reading, “She's dying.” Strange looked at the funereal words with an intense sorrow.  
“I have to go,” he said to Christine, his tone somber. Wong be damned.  
“Please, Stephen,” she implored. “Help those kids.”  
“I will,” said Strange with the weight of a promise. He could see the emotion in her eyes, the feeling of helplessness radiated off of her in waves. He wanted to grasp her hand or caress her cheek in the familiar fashion they had once gotten accumulated, but he knew he didn't have that privilege anymore.  
Christine moved to retrieve the phone, but when her fingers overlapped with his, they lingered. Her thumb gently caressed the scar on his thumb's knuckle. The moment lasted a second before Christine reigned herself back and cleared her throat. “Thanks,” she said in genuine gratitude.  
Not sure what else to say, Strange just said, “Of course.” The two exchanged an awkward nod in farewell before Christine made her leave. Strange watched her go longingly.  
As soon as she was out of sight, she was out of mind. He forced his swirling thoughts of her to the back of his brain as he diverted his focus to the children suffering in San Francisco. He racked his brain to remember what Scott's apartment looked like. He only knew its appearance by the visual memory Hawkeye had provided several months prior. After a few minutes of digging, he was finally able to find the memory he was looking for. He retained it and concentrated on it.  
Thankfully, his time in meditation had been very rewarding. His stomach had stopped its churning and his brain was no longer splitting down the middle, though there was still a residual pang. He ignored it and instead armed himself with his sling ring. He went through the fluid motion of slowly revolving his hand and envisioning his destination. There was a spark of energy that fluctuated once before stabilizing. The fiery glow grew until the desired circular shape and portal was successfully established.  
Once Strange made his way through, he found that the apartment unit was dark and vacant. He had taken into consideration the time zone difference, but he was still disoriented by going from the darkness of night to the dim glow of the setting sun slipping through the blinds. He took in the surroundings, paying close attention to the different mystical energies naturally flowing through the living quarters. Interdimensional bacteria littered the floor, feeding off the energy pulsing through from the party in the room below. The creatures were harmless, but the negative energy radiating through the floor was rooted to raw human emotion and desire. It was very influential and excessively distracting.  
Magic was as commonplace as dust particles flitting through the air, only it was harder to see and typically less harmful. Strange paid no attention to the magic flowing through the rooms, but he felt it would probably be for the better to add a little extra barrier to help prevent unwanted energy leaking through from the neighbors.  
Strange first purified himself with a white light then extended the spell out to coat the entire apartment unit. With a quick flick of the wrist and interlacing of fingers, a seal of protection was cast on the floor and walls. The buzzing of mystical energy died down to a relaxing croon. It was a simple seal, nothing too spectacular, but strong enough to prevent any poor invasions. The bacteria began to vacate the room, finding another source from which to feed.  
That task complete, Strange was stuck bored with nothing else to do. He considered shifting to his astral form and analyzing the city from above. But before he could further delve into the idea, he was distracted by the sound of the front door being unlocked and opened. Strange turned around to see a young, slightly pudgy man come in.  
Strange barely had a chance to register the shocked look on the stranger's face before a fist was swinging towards his nose. Instinct from his training at Kamar-Taj kicked in and Strange was leaning away from the attack, leaving the stranger overextended. Strange grabbed the outstretched arm and used the stranger's forward momentum to his advantage, hurling the young man over his shoulder and onto the floor.  
Breathless, the young man stared up at Strange with a dazed expression. “Wha—?”  
Strange loomed over him with a glare. “Where's Ant-Man?” Strange didn't know very much about the aforementioned hero, but from his brief encounter, he was confident that Scott did not come from Hispanic descent like the man lying at his feet.  
“Ant-Man?” asked the stranger, slowly pushing himself to a stand. “The coolest, funniest, greatest Avenger?” Strange gave him an incredulous look, but the other man just shrugged. “I don't know who that is, man.”  
Strange rolled his eyes. “I don't have time for this.” Strange hardened his expression and stepped closer, using his height as a tool for intimidation. “I need to see Scott. Where is he?”  
“Whoa! What? You know Scott is Ant-Man?”  
Strange groaned. Why was he stuck with this blundering idiot? “Who are you?” he asked impatiently. “Where's Scott?”  
“Oh, you know, I'm Ant-Man's sidekick, his partner. Not, like, romantic partner but, like, partner in crime. But not crime-crime! We're the good guys, man, like Captain America. Well, he might not be a hero now, but—“  
Strange sighed in obvious annoyance and lifted his hand up to press his thumb to the man's forehead. He might not yet have the skills to peer into one's mind with a single look like the Ancient One could, but if he had direct physical contact on their third eye he was able to dig through their memories with ease.  
A flush of memories passed by Strange's eyes. In an instant, Strange knew the stranger's name, his family, his criminal history, his failed relationships, his losses, and his gains. Unfortunately, Luis did not know where Scott was. When Strange pulled his hand back, he had to shake his head. He was still new to mind reading and hadn't yet learned how to properly filter the information without it mingling with his own memories. The perk was he could now understand Spanish, for a few hours anyway. The drawback was that his headache was back and throbbing with a vengeance.  
“What'd you do—what was that?” asked Luis. He put his hands up to prod at his own head. “Did you just possess me?”  
Strange gritted his teeth, his impatience further feeding his headache. “Call Scott. Now.”  
“Yeah, sure, man,” said Luis, too eager to please. “Whatever you say.” He pulled out his phone and called Scott. When the call rang through to voicemail, Luis hung up and tried again. “Come on, Scotty, pick up.” In the middle of a ring, the line went completely silent. “What?” Luis looked down to see that his phone was shutting down, dead. There was some lesson in there about not wasting his phone's battery on some game app, but he refused to notice it. He looked up to Doctor Strange with an uncomfortable smile. “It, uh, it's dead, bro.”  
Strange pressed his fingers to his brow, massaging the wrinkled skin. “Then charge it.”  
“Right, right, that's what I was about to do,” said Luis and he stumbled his way to Scott's charger that he had plugged in next to the couch.  
Strange restrained a groan. “It seems I'm stuck waiting for him.” Strange did his best to see the bright side of the setback. Perhaps he could use the time to try and get an evaluation of the city. “I'll need some privacy. While you contact him, I'll be occupying your room.”  
“What? My room? But—“  
Strange silenced him with a menacing gaze. “I will be taking your room.”  
“Yeah, okay, man. It's all yours,” said Luis as he sat down on the couch.  
Saying nothing else, Strange made his way into Luis' mess of a bedroom. He pointedly ignored the clothes on the floor and the stains on the sheets. Deciding not to touch anything, Strange let the Cloak of Levitation lift him off the ground to hover above the bed. He sat in the air with his legs crossed and his fingers posed. He took the time to chant a quick spell of protection for his body, having learned his lesson in previous exploits not to depart from his body without one. Body in place and protection spell cast, he projected his astral form forward and out of his body.  
He floated up through the ceiling to hover above the apartment building. He stared out at the cityscape, observing both the natural and supernatural beings walking through the streets and flying through the skies. There was definitely something rotten in the city of San Francisco. The disturbance was not evident in the form of incandescent aura or surge of powers, but there was the presence of an odd white webbing, to put it lightly, strung throughout the streets that pierced into homes. The white stings of light seemed to originate from the hospital in the distance, expanding and reaching in an oblong radius. Strange had the feeling that the hospital wasn't the origin point, but the inevitable destination of whoever was ensnared in the dreaded web.  
Among the webbing he could see phantom Rheks trying to restore the damage, but it seemed they were unable to pinpoint the source. They dared not touch the white web, instead making sure that no other interdimensional creature disturbed it. Strange's heart plummeted. He had a feeling he knew what those white strings were, but didn't want to make any definitive hypothesis until he got a closer look. However, if his assumption was correct, then he first needed to see to what they were tethered.  
Using his thumbs to hold down his ring and middle fingers, Strange commanded open the third eye on his brow. Next, he summoned forth the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak and scattered them throughout the city. He typically summoned the Bands as an offensive weapon, but he had since learned of their ability to search for a desired target instead of bind one. Strange closed his two eyes and focused his sight on the third, looking through the perspective of the Bands as they slithered through homes.  
His first find was in a clustered home on the more impoverished side of town. The string of light stretched through the apartment, unhindered by walls or obstructions, straight into a mirror. It was a simple full-body mirror on the bathroom door. The mirror didn't emit any form of arcane magic or mystic element. The surface was solid, just as expected from a mirror.  
His second find was in a more financially stable neighborhood. Just like the first find, it led to a mirror, this one in the living room. The mirror was slightly more decorated, but other than that it was completely normal.  
The third find involved two strings of light from the same house. However, just when Strange saw the designated mirror, his Band got too close to one of the strings and it was swiftly destroyed by a protective Rhek. The force was enough to cause Strange to flinch but he didn't stop in his search.  
One home after another, he kept finding the exact same result: mirrors. Their quality ranged anywhere from shattered to lavish, but they were always large enough for a body to slip through. To his annoyance, no mirror seemed to be of any particular importance. All of them were normal—no enchantments or possessions or charms or anything of relevance.  
His search was interrupted when he felt a sudden pressure in the forefront of his skull. It wasn't a painful pressure but it was far from pleasant. He dismissed his Crimson Bands and closed his third eye. He took a moment to gather himself before drifting back down towards his body. As he returned to the bedroom, he took notice of what disturbance alerted him. The bedroom door was opened and two people were now occupying the room with him.  
He immediately recognized Luis but it took him more than a second before identifying Scott Lang, the Ant-Man. Strange returned to his body and opened his eyes just as Scott was about to poke his shoulder. The sudden awaking seemed to give the other men a scare since they both jumped back in alarm.   
“Whoa, whoa, man! How's he floating like that?” said Luis in a panic.  
Strange ignored him as he levitated away from the bed and landed on his feet. Once his landing was secure, he turned to face the two other men with a steely gaze. “Hello, Scott.”  
“Doctor Strange,” said Scott, ecstatic. “You're here!”  
Strange nodded. “Indeed I am.”  
“Oh, thank God! Please, I need your help!” Scott reached out as if to grab Strange's hand, but the doctor was quick to retreat his hands into the recesses of his cloak. He was too self-conscious about the scars on his hands and the way they trembled. And with the way his hands were aching, he didn't want to worsen it with the expected squeeze received when one shook hands with another.  
“That's why I'm here,” said Strange, deciding to press the issue instead of giving Scott a reason to contemplate the ill-received physical greeting.  
“Wait, wait, wait,” butted in Luis. “That's Doctor Strange? The voodoo guy?”  
Strange gave Scott a sour look. “'Voodoo'?”  
“Not my words,” Scott was quick to defend.  
“Right,” Strange said, suddenly distracted. His eyes were fixed on Scott's aura, observing it carefully as it pulsed and shuddered. The aura was a warm and welcoming color that seemed to comfort anyone who got near it. Yet, under the duress of the crisis at hand, the aura was wavering. If Strange hadn't already known Scott was a father, he would have definitely known now. Every fiber of Scott's very being was screaming out in concern for his daughter. Strange winced in sympathy. “I did a quick survey of the city. I think I see what could be causing the dilemma.”  
Scott's face brightened. “Wha—really? Already?”  
“I can't confirm anything yet,” Strange was quick to say before Scott's hopes got too high. “I'll need to get a closer look at the children before diagnosing exactly what's wrong.”  
“'What's wrong'? What's wrong?” asked Luis. “You holding out on me, Scotty? Is this a Avenger thing?”  
Scott's optimism faltered. “It's Cassie,” he admitted reluctantly. As he continued to tell his paraphrased story, Strange partially listened. His attention had been drawn elsewhere.  
Strange was still getting acclimated to a lot of his newfound senses, one of which being able to see spiritual presences without the use of his opened third eye. He hadn't noticed until now the spirit that hovered just over Luis' shoulder. She was an older woman of Hispanic background. Strange immediately recognized her as Luis' late mother. Even if Strange hadn't recently trifled through Luis' memories, their relation was unmistakable. She seemed proud, smiling down at her son.  
Strange's attention diverted back to the conversation when Luis said with a sincere face, “Scotty, I'm so sorry.” He turned to Strange. “So, what are you going to do? Cast some voodoo and heal 'em?”  
Strange refrained from scowling. With the roll of his eyes, he faced Scott and assured, “I'll do everything I can. Which is a lot. I'm pretty good at what I do.” He brought up his hands and concentrated on opening another portal. He focused his memory on the brief glance he got of UCSF Medical Center. In seconds, a portal opened in the living room. “Now, shall we?”  
“Whoa!” Luis' eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Yo, man, how'd you do that?”  
Scott took the chance to show off. He shrugged off the portal like it was nothing. “It's just a portal, Luis. No need to be scared.”  
“Hey, Daddy ain't scared,” defended Luis. There was obvious trepidation in his features. “Is it dangerous?”  
Strange fought hard to resist the urge to lie to him. “Hasn't killed me yet.”  
An idea seemed to cross Scott's mind as he suddenly stopped to grab a backpack he had shoved behind the couch. “All right, let's go.” He stepped through the portal, arriving in the parking lot of UCSF on the other side. He looked through the portal opening at Luis. “Come on.”  
Luis' eyes shined. “I can come too?”  
“No,” said Strange as he moved to walk through the portal next. “Only two people can go at a time. If there are more, the portal could possibly close and kill them.”  
“Say what?” asked Scott and Luis in unison.  
Strange didn't elaborate. Once he stepped through the portal, he closed it behind him before Luis had the temptation to follow after.  
“That's not true, right?” challenged Scott. “Last time I went through one of those there was,” he did a quick count on his fingers, “six of us. And we were fine. Mostly.”  
“Seven,” corrected Strange. “No, I lied. I just really didn't want him to come.”  
…  
The trek through the hospital had brought on some unwanted attention. Strange had gotten so familiar with the apathetic, inattentive citizens of New York that he felt a growing sensation of self-consciousness from all the curious gazes he received from the San Franciscans they passed. It was easy enough to ignore them until he came face-to-face with Scott's ex-wife, Maggie Lang.  
When they entered the large patient room of the pediatric ward, a lot of parents glanced up and watched as he made his way across the room. However, Maggie stood and regarded him with a critical eye when he stopped at the foot of Cassie's bed. Another man stood next to her, looking like he was ready to start swinging if he had to.  
She gave Scott a hard, almost crazy look. “Who's this?”  
“The specialist I was talking to you about,” explained Scott.  
“This is Doctor Palmer?” she asked with obvious skepticism.  
Strange tried with all his might not to make his annoyance evident. He had to remind himself that she was suffering and that people lashed out when they were hurting as bad as she was. Her aura was unstable and threatening and he didn't want to make it worse.  
“No,” Scott corrected lightly. “Maggie, meet Doctor Strange. Doctor Strange, this is Cassie's mom, Maggie and her fiancé, Paxton.”  
Strange was about to offer a greeting but Maggie interrupted with barely contained hysteria. “I thought you were trying to get a Palmer.”  
Scott's face twisted in irritation. “I had to contact Dr. Palmer to get to Doctor Strange.”  
“...What?” She turned to Strange, grimacing at his outlandish attire.  
Paxton stepped in on the conversation. “What exactly do you specialize in, Doctor?”  
Strange took in a deep breath to contain himself. “Several things,” he answered simply.  
Maggie whirled on Scott. “Of all the dumb things you've done, this is by far one of the dumbest.” She gestured to her daughter's prone form in the bed. “Cassie's on the brink of death and you bring in some shaman?”  
“Sorcerer, actually,” corrected Strange curtly. His sympathy was gradually losing to his growing impatience.  
Scott must have seen the oncoming confrontation because he suddenly leapt back into the conversation. “Maggie, really, you’ve have a Thomas Train crash through your ceiling. This definitely isn't the strangest thing you've seen.”  
Whatever words Maggie had at the tip of her tongue never came to light, but the look on her face never simmered. After a moment of consideration, she threw her hands up in frustration. “Whatever. What else do I have to lose?”  
That said and done, Strange went to work, albeit under Maggie's critical gaze.  
Strange diverted his full attention to Cassie. His eyes widened. It wasn't her physical state that alarmed him, but her spiritual. Her aura was almost nonexistent. The coloring was faint and the strength wavering. Strange leaned over her and gently pressed his thumb between her eyes.  
Cassie's mind was like an empty stage. It was dark and barren with no props or actors. It lacked life. Strange stood on the stage and heard his boots echo through the hollow floor. “Cassie?” he called out. The only response was his own voice echoing back to him from the vast auditorium. “Cassie?”  
Again, there was no answer. He walked upstage, looking down both ends of the wings. There was nothing but utter darkness on each side. As he got to the backdrop curtain, something caught his eye. In the center of the curtain, there was some form of protrusion, large and square. It was hard to find in the dark, but once he saw it he was drawn to it.  
Suddenly, he could hear humming coming from the other side of the curtain, subtle and soft. Though muted, it gradually grew louder with each step Strange took. Now standing in front of the curtain, he ran his hand along the velvet fabric to find a parting down the middle, right in front of the protrusion. Strange steadied himself and grasped each part of the curtain in both hands before pulling them apart. The curtain pulled away, almost on its own accord, to reveal a lone mirror.  
It was unlike any Strange had found during his partial search back at the apartment. It was elaborate and decorated and the surface shimmered like a watery surface. The humming, which had been so soft it was barely heard, immediately ascended to a deafening decibel as a withered hand reached out from the mirror's surface—  
Strange stumbled back, out of Cassie's mind and away from her bed.  
Scott was at his side instantly. “What happened?”  
Strange shook his head, the humming tune rapidly fading from his memory. “I don't know.”  
“What did you do?” asked Maggie, criticizing.  
Strange blinked several times as he struggled to gain his bearings. “I simply looked into her mind,” he said in between his struggles. “I was not expecting that.”  
Scott was anxious. “What did you find?”  
“Nothing,” admitted Strange. “Her mind is gone. All that was there was a mirror.”  
“A mirror?”  
“Yes, a mirror,” said Strange. “That seems to be the motif of whoever is doing this.”  
“Who?” asked Paxton. “You're implying someone is doing this?”  
“Perhaps 'what' would be the better term,” said Strange, his lips pressed into a thin line. He observed Cassie again, observing the faint traces of her aura. In a quick gesture of his fingers, Strange opened his third eye and inspected her closer. He finally got a close look at the thin white string of light that he had seen stretched throughout the city. It seemed to pierce straight into her chest, at the very center of her core. After another second of analysis, he let out a breath in surprise. “This is worse than I thought.”  
“What? What is it?” asked Scott, alarmed.  
Strange gingerly touched the string with the tips of his fingers, watching as the light glowed under his touch. He took a quick glance around to see that the other children also had their own strings stretching out to an unseen location. “I had thought that something had attached itself to the children, but this,” he paused as he considered how to explain it. “Something isn't infecting the children—something has taken them away.”  
“What do you mean?” asked Paxton.  
“She's right here,” declared Maggie.  
Scott struggled to keep up. “I don't understand.”  
Strange ignored them as he moved from Cassie's bed to the others', carefully looking at each string. Some had a brilliant, strong glow about them while others flickered. Cassie's, however, was undeniably the weakest. Conceivably, Cassie was the first victim and therefore the most vulnerable as well as potentially being the catalyst to the catastrophe that had befallen the other children.  
Strange turned to Scott and put his hands on his shoulder in urgency. If the way Cassie's string flickered indicated anything, it meant they were running out of time quickly. “Does Cassie have a mirror?”  
“What?” asked Scott, momentarily stunned by the question. “Yeah, she has a mirror. In her room. Why?”  
“Where was Cassie when you found her?”  
Scott turned to Maggie who quickly answered, “In her room. Why? What does that mean?”  
“Her bedroom, have you been in it? Can you imagine it?” When Scott nodded Strange pressed on. “Close your eyes. Think only of her room, every detail. I need vivid memory.” Scott complied and Strange could almost see the room before he even pressed his thumb to Scott's forehead. Strange could everything, from the stuffed animals scattered throughout the floor to the lights that strung from the ceiling molding. He wasted no time.  
He pulled his hands away from Scott and went through the motions of opening a portal. He could hear the various parents and nurses in the room gasping at the sight, but he didn't care at the moment. He looked to Scott. “Let's go.”  
Scott didn't hesitate. “All right.” He started to step into the portal but was stopped by the barrage of questions spewing from Maggie and Paxton.  
“Wait, what is that?”  
“What's going on?”  
“What are you doing?”  
“Why are you leaving?”  
“That's Cassie's room!”  
“Why do you need to go there?”  
“Wait!”  
Strange offered them a calm and sympathetic look. “I don't have time to explain,” he said with sincere kindness. “But I promise, I will bring your daughter back.”  
There were tears in Maggie's eyes. “I don't understand.”  
Scott moved away from the portal and grabbed Maggie's hands. “I don't understand either,” he confessed. “But you can trust Doctor Strange. If anyone can help Cassie now, I'm confident that he can. If you can't trust him, then trust me.” He looked hard into Maggie's eyes, but not long enough for it to be wasted time. He then gave Cassie a hurried but loving kiss on the forehead before nodding to Strange. “Let's do this.”  
…  
Cassie's bedroom was the perfect example of every little girl's dream bedroom, or so Strange assumed. Having never been a little girl himself he really couldn't confirm nor deny that statement. The wallpaper decorated the room in a lush pink with pink lights and pink shades. Plush animals were scattered across the floor and posters of rainbows and unicorns covered the walls. The white furniture accented the pink theme well, including a small vanity decorated with a large mirror.  
The mirror immediately caught Strange's attention. It was the exact one he had found in Cassie's mind. Through his eye, he could see Cassie's string breaching the mirror's surface, just like every other string Strange had previously found. However, unlike the other mirrors he had seen, this one had a surface that rippled like disturbed water. “This must be the prime mirror,” announced Strange as he approached it.  
“I'm trying to understand,” said Scott. “What does the mirror have to do with anything?”  
“Every child is connected to one,” Strange said absently as he leaned against the vanity. He could hear something, just barely. He had to strain his ear to hear it but it was unmistakable. “Do you hear that?”  
Scott was finding it harder and harder to keep his anxiety at bay. “Hear what?”  
“Humming.”  
Scott ran his hands through his hair. “Doctor Strange, please. What's going on?”  
Strange pulled his attention away from the mirror and regarded Scott. The man's aura was spiking with uncertainty and fear. His inability to understand the situation was driving him desperate. Strange forced himself to slow down and help Scott better understand. “Let me show you,” he said, again pressing his thumb to Scott's forehead.  
He had never opened another person's third eye before, but how hard could it be? Using the same process to open his own eye, Strange instead focused his efforts on Scott's. It took a little more effort than he thought and it wasn't a full opening, but it would do the trick. His headache flared behind his eyes and he pulled his hand back.  
“What'd you do?” asked Scott, touching his forehead.  
“I opened your third eye,” said Strange as he did the same to himself.  
“My what?!” Scott caught first glimpse of the thread of light passing by him and into the mirror. “Whoa! What is that?” He moved to tough it but Strange stopped it by grabbing his wrist.  
“Don't touch it,” he warned. He pointed to the thread. “That is Cassie's lifeline.”  
Scott immediately obeyed. “What do you mean?” he asked, voice downtrodden.  
Strange frowned. He had dreaded the moment when he would have to explain it. “Cassie's soul has been separated from her body.”  
Scott gaped. “What...?”  
“This,” he gestured to the string, “is what is connecting her soul to her body. Think of it as a tethering. This is a good thing.”  
“How is this a good thing?!”  
Strange offered Scott a sympathetic smile. “This means that the soul left of its own accord. Cassie and the other children left themselves breadcrumbs so they can find their way back to their bodies.”  
To Strange's surprise, his good news only seemed to make Scott wilt. “Why would they leave their body?”  
“I assume they were lured,” mused Strange aloud as he turned his attention back to the mirror. He carefully reached out and touched the surface, which rippled at his touch. “By whatever is on the other side of this mirror.” Strange examined the crests and the notches carved into the frame. It took him a moment to realize the notches were not simple blemishes in the wood, but actual characters to a language he was not fully familiar with. He ran his fingers along the carved letters and could feel an old magical energy emitting from the mirror. “Where did she get this?”  
Scott hesitated. “I bought it for her,” he said, melancholy.  
Strange gave Scott a disbelieving glance. “Where?”  
Scott raised his hands in uncertainty. “Some random vendor. There was a thrift market downtown so a lot of street vendors were scattered throughout the city. This guy had a lot of strange antiques. But I bought that months ago. Why is it doing whatever it's doing now?”  
“I assume it's because of Halloween.”  
“What does Halloween have to do with it?”  
Strange suppressed a sigh. He had once been in Scott's place and had to remind himself that. He had to be patient. “There's a reason Halloween is seen as a holiday for the occult. Halloween is the only day when the spirits of the dead can walk amidst the living. It's also the day where the dimensional rift is at its thinnest.” Seeing Scott’s mortified look, Strange concluded, “I believe whatever is on the other side of this mirror was able to cross the rift and lure the children into its dimension. Or realm, I suppose would be a better term. However,” he turned back to the mirror and touched the surface again, this time demonstrating the unstable surface to Scott, “because the children left a tethering, the portal between its world and ours has not yet closed. I'm going to enter the mirror and get the children back.”  
“Wait, you're going inside the mirror, into another dimension? Or realm or whatever?” said Scott, bewildered.  
“It's not uncommon for someone such as myself. You've been in another dimension, if you recall.”  
“Yeah, that's right,” said Scott in realization. “The Quantum Realm.”  
Strange blinked. “I was talking about the Mirror Dimension—you've been to the Quantum Realm?”  
“Yeah.” Scott rubbed the back of his head. “That was...interesting. And by 'interesting,' I mean I don't actually remember any of it. It was a pretty desperate move.”  
A lot of questions swarmed Strange's mind but he dismissed them for now. That was a conversation for another day. “Well then...” He looked back to the mirror and regarded the engraved language. He might not know enough about it to read it, but he definitely knew it was old. Very old arcane scripture. “Whatever's in there is ancient,” he thought aloud. He leaned back from the mirror and mulled over which seals of protection he should use. “Ancient magic only gets stronger over the years. It may be challenging, but I promise I'll get Cassie and the others out of there.”  
“Wait,” said Scott, “you're not planning on going in there alone, are you?”  
“Of course,” said Strange. “Wong and the others are too busy. Besides, I can handle something like this.”  
“I'll go with you,” he said, more demanding than volunteering.  
Strange shook his head. “No. You'll be a liability.”  
“You just said it would be challenging. I'm going with you.”  
“I said it may be challenging. You wouldn't be helpful in the world of magic.”  
“Just because I'm a 'muggle' doesn't mean I won't be helpful.” He pulled the backpack off his shoulder and pulled out his Ant-Man helmet. “I'm not going in unarmed.”  
Strange was about to retaliate but bit his tongue. Scott was a father wanting to save his daughter. Strange may not know the pains of a parent helpless to save his child, but he did understand the pain of not being able to save the ones he loved. With a defeated sigh, Strange nodded. “All right.” He could feel Scott's relief more than see it.  
As Scott began to unpack his suit, Strange prepared a seal of protection. With a few quick gestures of his hands, he created a glowing circle on the floor, centered around the mirror and stretching out in a five-foot diameter. In an act of precaution, Strange used arcane magic to interlace the protective seal with the Sapphire Bands of Storaan, giving the glow a bluish hue  
By the time the seal was done, Strange was drained. He wobbled on his feet and had to lean against the vanity. He brought a trembling hand up to hold his throbbing head.  
“Hey, are you okay?” asked Scott.  
Strange barely heard him past the ringing in his ears. “I'm fine,” he said in a heavy breath.  
“No, no!” Scott pointed an accusing finger. “Last time I saw you like that you were bleeding to death.”  
“It wasn't 'to death,'” rebutted Strange. He dug his nails into his scalp, as if physical pain would help appease the mental. His stomach began to churn as it reminded him that he hadn't eaten in the last forty-eight hours. “That spell just required more effort than I thought. I need a moment.”  
“Here,” said Scott as he reached into the pocket of his disregarded jacked. “Food usually helps me when I overuse the Pym Particles.” He pulled out a wrapped burger and handed it to Strange.  
Strange regarded the proffered burger with curious puzzlement. He raised his brow up at Scott. “Do you always carry a burger in your pocket?”  
“No, it's just, well, I was eating burgers.”  
Strange's face pinched in further confusion. “...When?”  
“Earlier. Like, an hour ago.”  
Hesitant, Strange accepted the burger and weighed it in his hand. “Thanks,” he eventually said. The medicine practitioner in Strange's mind was telling him that the food was unhealthy and wouldn't provide the nutrients his body desperately needed; the gentleman buried deep in the recesses of his brain was telling him that it was rude to eat other people's food; the gourmand, which was currently in the forefront of his mind, didn't give a damn about health or manners. “These can kill you,” he said as he presented the burger before biting into it.  
“So can a lot of things,” said Strange as he finished putting on his suit. “There's no way I'm giving up burgers.”  
By the time Scott was done dressing up, Strange had finished his little snack. The grease upset his more refined stomach, but the food did do wonders for his headache. “Thanks,” he said again, sincere.  
“You're welcome.”  
“Now stand still,” said Strange as he turned to Scott and raised his hands.  
Scott took an instinctive step back. “Why? What are you doing?”  
Strange pressed together his thumbs to his ring fingers and crossed his arms at the wrists. “Don't be a baby.” A white light of purification enveloped Scott. The white light then solidified into a ward of protection, the white scripture glowing on Scott's back.  
Scott watched with widened eyes and he spun, trying to get a look at the ward on his back. “What is that?”  
“It's just protection,” said Strange as he watched Scott's antics in amusement. “We don't know what we'll be facing so this is a last line of defense.”  
“Oh, uh, thanks.” Scott shrugged his shoulders and shook his arms. “I feel lighter.”  
“That's because of the purification.” Strange turned away from Scott and did another purification, this time for the room before it extended throughout the house.  
“Wait—what purifi—I don't need—I'm a good guy. I'm pure, right?”  
Strange gave Scott an incredulous look as he concluded the spell. “You just said you felt lighter after a purification, and you're calling yourself pure?”  
“I mean...I'm pure...” Scott said, despondent.  
“You are now. You're welcome.” Strange gave a heartfelt scoff before turning his attention back to the mirror. He carefully slid his hand across the watery surface. Magic resonated under his fingers, but no threat was evident in the passageway. However, the magic under his touch was strong and he could feel the age prickle at his skin. Strange turned back to Scott. “From now on, I'll refer to you only by your alter ego.”  
Scott was taken aback. “Why? We need to hide our identities?”  
“Name's wield a lot of strength with archaic magic like this. It's best to avoid them, especially since we're going into its territory now.”  
“Oh, okay. What, uh, what do I call you? Your name's Strange, right? Um, um, um,” Scott snapped his fingers as he tried to remember. “Stephen. Stephen Strange.”  
Strange massaged his hands. “You should be fine calling me Doctor.” He felt confident that his experience in the mystic arts would protect him if his name was mentioned, but he'd rather not test it.  
“All right. I can do that.” Both men stood shoulder to shoulder as they looked into the mirror, their reflections staring back at them. “So, any idea of what to expect, Doc?”  
Strange's eyes wandered over the mahogany framework and the glistening glass. “I have no idea.” The mirror was huge, large enough for them to easily slip through one at a time. “I'll enter through first. As soon as I'm completely on the other side, wait ten seconds before following. Do you understand?”  
“Yeah, I got this.” Scott began to stretch by swinging his arms and lifting his legs. “Let's do this.”  
Strange nodded then slowly dipped his hand through the mirror's surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I played a little with Wong's character (he's probably the one I tweaked the most). I'm still trying to find the ground between comic Wong and MCU Wong (I prefer MCU but respect the original comic rendition), and thus mold him in a bit of an original fashion. My favorite thing about MCU Wong is that he's not afraid to give Strange a lecture or attitude when our Sorcerer Supreme-to-be needs it. This fic might make him seem like a mother hen, but that's where the comic Wong comes into play.  
The interdimensional beings, creatures, and monsters that aren't Doctor Strange canon were taken from Dungeons & Dragons' Monster Manual; they are not my own creation. I could not find a list for Doctor Strange creatures, so I had to pull them from another source.


	3. The World Beyond the Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please stop with the OC's and non-canon romances.

This was, by far, the strangest Halloween Scott has ever had.  
Okay, it might not be Halloween anymore, but the last two days were such a hodgepodge that it might as well be one day. Through all the emotional stress and lack of much sleep, Scott really couldn't find the line between the two. So, as far as he was concerned, it was still Halloween. A very strange Halloween.  
The requested ten-second wait came to an end and it was Scott's turn to follow Strange into his daughter's mirror. He stretched in preparation. “I can do this, I can do this.” He let out several breaths before climbing onto Cassie's vanity and touching the glass surface. Though he saw it give way under Strange's hand, he still wasn't prepared for it to do the same thing for his own. He took a deep breath and threw himself in.  
There was the sensation of falling for two seconds before he felt strong hands grasp his forearms and pull him forward. In the speed of a blink, Scott was now floating next to Strange in a sphere composed of detailed orange glyphs that glowed at the touch. Outside the sphere was what only could be described as pitch darkness. The only light was illuminated from the sphere they were in, the shining mirror portal behind them, and Cassie's strand of light.  
“The Sphere of Seraphim,” explained Strange as he gestured to the orange glyphs gleaming around them. “It will protect us.”  
“Protect us from what?”  
“From that.”  
Strange pointed downward and Scott followed his finger. Approximately thirty yards below Scott could see a white, jagged ground. Scott had to squint his eyes to get a better look before he saw that the ground was made entirely of skulls and various bones. Scott gasped as he saw something black and very large slithering through the countless bones. “What is that?”  
“That is an Abthalavuun.”  
“A what? Abathal—what?”  
“Abthalavuun, a creature made from old magic. A small, tentacled soul devourer. It favors human flesh.”  
“What? What? What?”  
“Don't worry,” assured Strange. “While we're in this protective sphere it won't sense us.”  
“What about Cassie? And the other kids?” Scott was on the verge of hysteria. “It lured them in here to eat them?”  
“No, no, no.” Strange pointed up to Cassie's thread of light and how it disappeared in the dark distance. “Cassie was able to pass by without harm,” he guaranteed. “She's outside of her body.”  
Scott could see the thread, but his gut was still twisting with worry. “But you said it's a soul devourer!”  
“It only devours souls after it eats the body. Because she's not in her body she didn't draw the attention of the Abthalavuun. She went by completely unnoticed. I promise you.”  
Scott reigned in his erratic emotions and nodded. “I believe you,” he said. “So, if that didn't lure Cassie here, then what did?”  
“I assume, without a doubt, that Cassie and the others were bewitched by whoever is singing this song.”  
“What song?” asked Scott. As soon as the question left his mouth, he heard it: a soft, lulling voice drifting in the air around them.  
Come, little children, I'll take thee away into a land of enchantment.  
Come, little children, the time's come to play here in my garden of shadows.  
Follow, sweet children, I'll show thee the way through all the pain and the sorrows.  
Weep not, poor children, for life is this way; murdering beauty and passion.  
Hush now, dear children, it must be this way; too weary of life and deceptions.  
Rest now, my children, for soon we'll away into the calm and the quiet.  
Come, little children, I'll take thee away into a land of enchantment.  
Come, little children, the time's come to play here in my garden of shadows.  
“What is that?” asked Scott. Despite the soft, enchanting tone, the lyrics sent a chill down his spine.  
“I heard that song in Cassie's mind,” said Strange. “It's no wonder the children were ensnared by such a strong enchantment.”  
“So, what, we just follow the music until we find them?”  
“I was thinking we'd follow an easier trail,” said Strange, again pointing to Cassie's dwindling thread.  
…  
As the two traveled through the darkness in their protective bubble, Scott couldn't help but notice as Strange continued to idly massage his hands. Scott's gaze lingered at the puffy scars erected on the skin's surface. Realization suddenly dawned on him. “You were a doctor!”  
Strange raised a brow as he looked at Scott. There was some hint of hurt in his aged eyes. “I still am a doctor,” he said, a bit clipped. “I may not practice medicine anymore but my PhD is still valid, thank you very much.”  
“Sorry.” Scott backtracked a little. “I always thought the title was an honorary designation in magic or something. I never realized you were an actual medical doctor.” In hindsight, it was pretty obvious. “Were you a neurosurgeon?”  
“How's it obvious?” asked Strange in apprehension.  
“It's not,” said Scott. “Dr. Vitani told me about a Doctor Strange. I just thought she was talking about someone else but it's you, isn't it?”  
“Dr. Vitani?”  
“She's the professional looking over the kids. She said you two interned together. Do you remember her? I think she liked you.”  
Strange's face shadowed and he looked away. While he was practicing medicine he had purposefully forgotten so many people. If they didn't benefit him in any way, then they weren't worth remembering. Strange hated the faults of his past. He hated how he used to think of people. He hated that he couldn't remember, despite his photographic memory. “I don't remember her,” he confessed in a hoarse voice.  
Scott could see the obvious discomfort and shuffled uncomfortably next to Strange. He felt bad for bringing it up. He tried to think of a different topic to transition the conversation towards, but he was struggling. “Can I ask a question?”  
Strange turned his full attention back to Scott and answered in a kind voice, “Of course.”  
Scott was stunned by Strange's sudden change of demeanor. It was obvious that Strange was just pained by something, yet he was now completely devoid of it, showing nothing but compassion and patience. He had pushed away his own pain to give Scott a sense of enough comfort to freely ask a question. Scott was so reeled that he forgot his original question. “Why are you helping me?” he asked instead.  
Strange was taken aback by the question. “I wasn't aware it was something that needed consideration.”  
“You're putting yourself in danger for me,” Scott clarified. “I can't say a lot of people have done that. And, honestly, I haven't done much for other people, until recently. You're doing a lot for a doctor.”  
“I'm no regular doctor,” said Strange with a smirk. Upon seeing the expectant look on Scott's face, he answered with a light sigh, “I suppose there are several reasons. You could say it's because you helped me first back when I needed it. You could say it's because I'm honor-bound as the Master of the New York Sanctum. Or,” Strange locked his steely eyes on Scott's hazel ones, “you could say it's because I want to.”  
Scott didn't know what to say. “Thanks.”  
Strange smiled then shifted his attention to the distance. “There's no need to thank me.”  
Scott disagreed but didn't put up an argument.  
Several minutes passed in silence until the two of them finally drifted towards solid matter. What started out as evanescent shadows solidified into fully blossomed trees. The ground grew green with grass and bushes and a bright blue sky materialized above them. Once they were completely surrounded by a solid setting, Strange dismissed the Sphere of Seraphim and used the cloak to gently levitate them down onto the ground.  
Scott could feel the earth under his boots, smell the dirt and brush around them, hear the cicadas chirping in the trees. “Where are we?”  
Strange was caressing his hand across the grey bark of one of the Elm trees. “It seems we're in the heart of this realm.”  
“It seems so real,” said Scott as he crouched down. He could see ants crawling through the grass. Using his earpiece, he sent electromagnetic waves to stimulate the ants' olfactory senses and manipulate them to form a circle.  
“Of course,” said Strange as he rubbed his thumb across a leaf hanging from an overextended branch. “It is real.”  
“I mean, it looks normal. I expected something more, I don't know, alien. Something like those ink creatures from—when was it—six months ago.”  
“That's ridiculous,” said Strange as he crouched down in front of Scott, looking at the ants as well as their circle gradually got bigger. “We're not dealing with an interdimensional creature. We're dealing with someone American.”  
“American?”  
“American,” repeated Strange as he gestured to the trees.  
Scott couldn't believe it, but then he got a closer look at the different breeds of ants at his feet. He wasn't nearly as knowledge about ants as Hope or Hank, but he did recognize four of them by name. Though they existed in different regions outside the United States, all of them were common American residents. “Oh. I think I might know where we are.”  
Strange raised a brow expectant. “Really?”  
“We can just as the ants.”  
Both brows were now lifted. “Ask...the ants?”  
A year ago he would he would have been just as skeptical. He would have killed an ant if it crawled in his path. Now, he was on a personal level with the ants; had familiarity with them.  
Scott puffed out his chest. It was his turn to educate Strange. “This,” he said, pointing to the darker ants, “is Camponotus, your basic carpenter ant. And this is the Crematogaster—the acrobat ant. These guys don't tell us much. Now, this guy,” said Scott as he lowered his hand onto the ground, palm up. One ant crawled from the top of a blade of grass onto his finger. “He's a Dolichoderus,” he said, pointing to the ant on his index finger. “In America, the only place you'll find an armored odorous ant is on the eastern coast of the States. And this ol' girl” he said, pointing to the ant anxiously pacing his palm, “she says a lot. She's a rare find. You'll typically only find her on the east coast, too. So, with these two together, I believe we're somewhere east.”  
Strange struggled with staying awake. When Scott was done with his lesson, he shook his head in an attempt to make himself more alert. “Wow. You really know how to make boring things...more boring.”  
Scott deflated with a scowl on his face. “That's not all,” he added. He dismissed all the ants except for the impatiently waiting winged one. “Tetramoriums are also known as pavement ants. They bury themselves under establishments. They gave the Europeans hell when they first immigrated here. Basically, her being here means there's civilization nearby.”  
“Hm.” Strange stood and flexed his hands. “I suppose having a Master's degree does prove some intelligence. Even if it is useless.”  
Scott also stood and let the ant on his palm fly away. “Electrical engineering isn't useless.”  
“Isn't very useful out here, is it?” He turned from Scott and continued leading their trek through the grassy terrain.  
Scott also stood. “I don't see your doctorate coming into play.” When Strange said nothing as a rebuttal and merely kept walking, Scott reluctantly followed. “Oh, look at me,” mocked Scott. “I'm a smart doctor who can put together a brain and walk through mirrors. But I can't hold onto an accent.”  
“Hey,” snapped Strange over his shoulder. “When you've been around as many cultured persons as I have, it's easy to pick up on an accent. I can understand how someone of your, ahem, background might not comprehend that.”  
“Hey, I'm—okay, I'm not cultured.”  
Strange laughed.  
…  
Just as Scott said, some form of civilization had been nearby. The two of them stumbled across a small gathering of colonial homes centered around a large farming plot. The homes were of simple, wooden design and the plot was surrounded by a short, dilapidated fence. Neglected plants were withering in the sun and sheep were braying in a distant pen. Everything seemed normal, except for the lack of people. Strange bee-lined for the closest house and peered through the glassless window.  
“These houses,” started Scott as he observed them from a distance. “They're old.”  
“Of course they're old. Of everything here, these make the most sense.”  
“How do these make sense?” Scott knew he was jumping into the rabbit whole with the question, but he was getting real sick of being in the dark.  
Strange sighed but did not turn his attention from the window. “You've actually seen the mirror, right?”  
“Yeah, I've seen the mirror.”  
“It's old.”  
Scott huffed. Feeling the need to defend himself and his apparent stupidity, Scott said, “So? It could have been possessed recently.”  
Strange sighed again and drooped his head. “You watch too many movies.” He finally turned to look Scott face-to-face. “And the mirror isn't possessed. It's a doorway to a different—“ he interrupted himself with, “do you really think this is a possession? You know what? Nevermind.” He waved his hands dismissively. “You saw that the mirror is old. I told you that whatever is in here is old. You saw the Abthalavuun, a creature made from magic that is old. That means, whoever is in here made this state of suspended reality years ago. These,” he gestured to the houses behind him, “are modern to the host of this fabricated realm.  
“History may not be my strongest subject, but looking at these buildings alone I figure we're maybe in the 16th or 17th century...” Strange trailed off, his eyes suddenly wide with realization.  
Scott didn't like the way Strange's expression turned grave. “What? What is it?”  
“I think I know what we're dealing with.”  
“What are we dealing with?”  
“Do you know what happened in the thirteen colonies in the 17th century?”  
Scott rattled his brain. History wasn't his strongest subject either. “Um...mass slaughter of native inhabitants?”  
“No. Well, yes, that too.”  
“Oh my God, are we on an Indian burial ground?” Scott asked, mostly joking.  
“This isn't a movie,” said Strange with the roll of his eyes. “I'm talking about witch hunting.”  
“Like, the Salem witch trials?  
“Exactly like the Salem witch trials.”   
“You think there's a witch in here?”  
“A very strong witch with access to very old arcane magic.” Strange moved to massage his hands but stopped when he realized what he was doing under a watchful eye and hid his hands behind his cloak. “My guess: when the hunting started, she hid herself in here.”  
“What makes you think it's a she?” The question came out before Scott gave it much thought. It was obvious they were dealing with a female once they heard the singing.  
“She's a witch. Witches are shes.”  
“You're a witch.”  
“I'm a sorcerer,” said Strange, clipped. “Very different.”  
“Then couldn't it be a sorcerer in here?”  
“No, I don't think so.”  
Scott scoffed. “You don't know.”  
“Hm. Come on.” He turned away from the houses and led the way towards the thick trees. “We're running out of time.”  
“Sure, avoid the conversation,” taunted Scott as he followed.  
“I'm not avoiding anything. Well, other than a pointless, unproductive conversation. Look!” Strange pointed to the sky. Scott assumed he was just pointing towards some random distraction, but he humored the thought and looked anyway. There, just above the tree line, was smoke of an irregular color. Strange was already quickening his pace. “We need to run.”  
Scott didn't hesitate as the two of them made a break for the trees. As they raced through the woods, Scott became gradually aware of more than one spiritual thread strung through the trees. Of all of them, Cassie's was the hardest to see, like it was seemingly getting dimmer and dimmer with each passing second. Scott forced his legs to run faster.  
When they broke the tree line, both of them froze at the sight. They stood in a wide open field that stretched out in a large circle with a thin stream running down the middle. Tall grass reached out from beyond the trees and met the doorstep of a large, cottage home. It was decorated and fanciful in comparison to the farmhouses they had previously seen. It was fully developed with two floors plus an established attic. Glass windows were decorated with dozens of lit candles and intricate ornaments. The house was completed with a watermill built into the side for the creek and an established chimney where purple smoke billowed out. The song that had been intoning since their arrival inside the mirror was no longer a silenced hum but a resonating melody. Dancing to that melody were ghostly figures that took Scott one second too long to realize were the sick children.  
Scott's eyes immediately started scanning for Cassie's soul in the transparent crowd. He took a step forward but halted when he felt Strange grab his arm. It was hard to tell through the Ant-Man suit, but he was positive he could feel the tremors in Strange's hand.  
“Wait,” he said, face pensive. “I don't think she's aware of our presence yet. I'm going to use this opportunity to try and release the children. It will be a slow process.”  
Scott nodded, eager to get the job done and get Cassie out of danger. “How can I help?”  
Strange's expression darkened. “I need you to go in there and see what exactly we're dealing with.”  
“I can do that,” said Scott. His thumb was twitching closer to the button on his glove.  
“Please be discreet,” Strange warned. “We don't know how powerful she is or what she's willing to do. Our top priority is getting the children out undetected.”  
“You have a bad habit of underestimating the intelligence of the people around you.”  
“If I underestimate others, then I'm never disappointed by their ineptitude.”  
“Gee, thanks.” Scott caught notice of Strange's fingers as they twitched. He assumed it was the cause of another tremor but then he noticed that Strange was mumbling something under his breath. “What are you doing?”  
Strange's fingers grew still as he raised both of his hands. He pressed his right pinky to his own temple while pressing his left pinky to Scott's temple. His mumbling came to a conclusion as he said, “By the Calls of Cyttorak.”  
Scott obediently stood still as he felt Strange press at his temple. He expected some form of sensation, a cold touch or sharp pain, but nothing came. When Strange pulled his hand away and looked at him expectantly, Scott shrugged. “What did that do?”  
Can you hear me?  
Scott jumped. He definitely heard Strange ask him a question, but he didn't see the sorcerer's lips move. “What?”  
I'll take that as a yes. Strange was smirking. Tell me something without speaking.  
“Like what?” Strange's eyes narrowed with impatience. Scott tried again. Like what?  
That'll do. Strange tapped his own temple. “It's a simple spell. It's so we can communicate with each other.”  
Scott rubbed his forehead. “This is weird.”  
“'Weird' is a relevant term. This is normal for me.” Strange checked to see that Scott's ward of protection was still in place. Satisfied, he went on to say, “Be careful in there.”  
“'I'm always careful,” said Scott with a cocky smile. He closed the faceplate of his helmet and pressed the button on his right glove. The Pym Particles flowed through the interlaced tubes of the leather suit and Scott felt himself begin to shrink. In his descent, he called out for a Tetramorium to meet him on the ground. As the winged ant flew close, Scott jumped up and rode on its back towards the cottage.  
Scott weaved through the now colossal-sized grass and weeds until he made his way to one of the first floor windows. Scott dismounted and pet the red skin. “Thanks, girl. Think you could get a few friends of yours? I might need your help.”  
The Tetramorium did something akin to a nod before flying off. Scott waved as she went. A single bite from her might not hurt too bad, but a hundred bites from her and her sisters may be enough to momentarily distract an opponent. Scott wanted to be prepared.  
Without another second to waste, Scott slipped through a nook in the window where the window met the sill. Inside, the living space was littered with burning candles and more arcane ornaments. Several hanging containers were dangling from scaffolds or banisters, their contents ranging from rotten foods to unfamiliar herbs to assorted bones. The second floor was a basic loft that used a ladder. On the loft were various linens piled in what was obviously a sleeping area. The bottom floor was mostly barren, containing little for living conditions. The space was cleared way with the exception of a large fire pit glowing in the center. Above the fire was a massive black cauldron with wisps of smoke flooding out and around. The main attraction that had drawn Scott's attention were two child-sized birdcages hanging from the ceiling. Their bars were thick and made of metal, their doors locked with a key. Inside one of the cages was a young boy that Scott remembered seeing in the pediatrics' wing. Inside the other, to his horror, was Cassie. Her eyes were closed and her body was sagging heavily against the bars. She was so transparent that Scott could almost barely recognize her.  
“Cassie,” Scott said in a terrified gasp. He watched in dismay as her soul flickered with light only to dim again. “I'll get you out of here.”  
Standing in front of the hanging cages, her back to the window, was a hooded figure wearing an emerald velvet cloak. She was standing before the boy and waving her hands in a beckoning motion as she chanted,  
“Give me strength and give me youth,  
I steal this child with no ruth.  
Darkest forces I plea to thee,  
To give this child's life to me.”  
As she finished her chant, she sucked in a deep breath. Scott watched with widened eyes as the boy's light was stripped away from him and funneled into her inhaling breath. The light of the boy's soul dulled and he became less opaque. He sagged further against his cage and let out a weak cry. It took everything in Scott's will to not jump in and intervene. The only thing that stopped him was his not knowing how to get the souls out.  
Scott clenched his fists at his sides and growled into his helmet. She's eating them! She's eating Cassie's soul!  
…  
Strange had squinted his eyes so he could see Scott's shrunken body fly through the tall grass. That done, he wasted no time before turning his attention to the closest band of children. Four children of varying ages and different sexes were hand-in-hand and dancing in a circle. They were laughing as they danced, but they showed no indication that they were aware of Strange's presence as he stepped up behind them. He smiled bitterly at their ignorant bliss. Despite their trance, they weren't suffering any nightmarish terror. It was very possible the children would wake up and have no trauma from the ordeal.  
He stretched out his hand and cast a large seal of Silence with an ingrained protective veil. A white glyph appeared in the middle of the children's circle, it's glow enveloping all four of them and deafening their ears. No longer able to hear the enchanted song, the children instantly slowed to a stop. They looked about themselves in confused fear.  
Strange kneeled down on one knee to address them eye-to-eye. He put each hand on the back of the two nearest children and he smiled at the group. “Don't be afraid,” he said to them, soothing. “You just got a little lost while playing your game. To get back home is simple: close your eyes and think of your home and your parents. It's okay, here, I'll close my eyes too.” Just as he said, Strange closed his eyes. In less than a second, his hands no longer felt the presence of the children's backs. Their souls instinctively followed their spiritual thread back through the mirror and to their bodies. When Strange opened his eyes again, all four children were gone.  
He was in the process of standing when Scott's voice pierced his mind, the frantic emotion like a hot knife. Strange winced and pressed his fingers to his brow. As severe as the sharp pain was, it wasn't nearly as painful as the news Scott told him. He made his response as calm as he could. What exactly do you see?  
She's casting some spell and then— Scott's voice faltered and Strange could feel the distress radiating through their mental link. Then she's sucking the life out of them! Strange she—she has Cassie!  
Strange wasn't going to tell him to calm down, that would have been cruel of him. Don't let her know you're there, he calmly reminded. But do everything you can to stop her.  
How do I stop a witch? His words were desperate.  
A witch is not excluded from physical distractions.  
There was a pause before Scott said, I hear you loud and clear.  
Strange furrowed his brow. If Scott kept himself undetected and acted smartly, then Strange wouldn't have to worry about him. And if he was detected, the ward of protection should save him from many mystic attacks. Strange pushed his concern to the back of his mind. Scott was Ant-Man, a hero worthy of Captain America's trust and an intelligent man in his own right. If push comes to shove, Strange was confident that Scott would be able to take care of himself, at least long enough for Strange to finish his job and help.  
Be careful, was all he settled on saying before addressing the next gathering of dancing children.  
…  
“Aaaaah.” The witch let out a pleasant sigh. “Feel that, sisters? The strength flowing through our veins. With this many souls, we'll finally be able to leave this accursed mirror.” She turned away from the children in their cages and now stood over the boiling cauldron.  
Scott jumped down from the window and ran across the wooded floor, passing by female Dasymutilla ants hiding between the floorboards. He made sure to give them a wide birth as he focused more on getting a closer look at the witches face. Once he was close enough, he leapt up the sides of the hot cauldron until he landed on the up-reached handle hanging from a chain. The witch didn't seem to notice as she focused her attention on the contents of the cauldron.  
To Scott's surprise, the witch was young and beautiful. She had strong cheekbones with full rosy lips and blue, almond eyes. She pulled back her hood and revealed curly hair of a lush red color. She was breathtaking and her voice was sweet as she spoke into the cauldron. “Soon we'll be free, sisters.”  
Inside the cauldron, the surface reflected not her face, but the face of two other beautiful women, one with long blonde hair and the other with curly black. “I'm so excited,” said the blonde as she ran her elegant fingers through her fair hair. “We're so beautiful!”  
“My nose has never been so strong, Winnie,” said the dark-haired one. “I'll be able to smell children from miles away.”  
“And we'll be so powerful,” said the witch, Winnie, “no hunter will be able to string us up again.”  
The three exchanged a laugh and Scott felt sick. He couldn't believe that these women were willing to kill children for youth and power. They were willing to kill Cassie for vanity! The very thought made him pissed. He wanted to hit her, to hold her head under the boiling water and rip the life out of her and give it back to Cassie.  
“Ow! OW!” Winnie began to stomp her foot and lift her skirts. “Curse you beast!”  
Scott hadn't realized that his anger had been broadcasting through his earpiece. The Dasymutilla had answered to his call and were now biting at her ankles. Scott was blown away. Though Dasymutilla were called ants, they were in the wasp family. He had never commanded a wasp before.  
Scott used his moment of distraction to take action. If he knew anything from movies, it was that a witch's cauldron was of great importance. He leapt from the handle and put all his weight on his landing on the brim. The weight caused the cauldron to tip and its contends were splattered on the ground. Scott was barely able to leap out of the way before he was carried away in the current. It wasn't enough to empty the cauldron, but it was enough to spill half of it.  
“No!” Winnie stumbled as the liquid spreading across the floor caused her to lose her footing. “What sorcery is this?!” She leveled the cauldron and scanned around her.  
Scott was already on the move, hopping to one side of the cottage to knock ornaments off the wall before hopping to another side and pushing over a candlelight stand. He continued his torment by flipping containers and knocking over furniture. As the witch whirled in confusion, trying to keep up with the chaos, Scott leapt to Cassie's cage and examined the padlock. It was old and rusty. A swift punch would be enough to break it, but what would he do then? He didn't have time for further questions.  
“I know you're in here and I'll find you,” threatened Winnie. She waved her hand left and right, her hands twitching with energy as she chanted,  
“In this rooted time we stand,  
This forever witching hour,  
I call upon the darkest power.  
Three together stand alone,  
Command the unseen to be shown.  
In malevolence we see through your guise,  
Enchanted are our new found eyes.”  
“Uh oh,” was all Scott was able to say before the witch pointed a finger at him.  
“Found you!” She was already chanting again as she whirled her hands together, lightning sparking in her grip.  
“Let thee oppugnant swine but scream,  
As I rip thee apart at the seem.  
Vanquish we three witches cry,  
One final shock and then you die!”  
Scott couldn't move fast enough. He leapt from Cassie's lock but before he could find new ground, his body was stuck with lightning. He was vaguely aware of his body glowing white before the lightning struck, sending his whole body into convulsions. Next he knew, he was burrowed in the wall from the blast, his body still twitching from the shock.  
“That...was not fun,” he groaned as he tried to regain control over his muscles. The blast was definitely impacting, but it surprisingly didn't hurt. Once he was able to compose his spasmodic limbs, he pried himself bit by bit out of the wooden wall. He stood on a protruding nail as he shook the dust of wood off his suit. Activating the speaker in his helmet, his voice carried like he was speaking in a normal size, “You evil hag!”  
The corner of Winnie's lip curled up in a snarl. “Still alive, you vile cullion?” She stepped closer as she glowered at him. “What kind of sorcerer are you?”  
“A vengeful one!” He called out to the horde of Tetramorium that had gathered on the windowsill. They easily slipped through the cranny and hundreds of winged ants took flight, swarming the room.  
Winnie was instantly surrounded, the creatures landing on her face and arms, biting at any exposed flesh. She screamed and swatted and spun in place as she tried to get the ants away from her. On the floor, the male Tetramorium and the female Dasymutilla were crawling up her legs and biting at her. “Get off me, get off me, get off me!”  
“How does it feel?” asked Scott, growling, “To feel the life slowly being eaten out of you?”  
The witch let out an angry cry as she swung her arm towards Scott, lighting striking from her fingertip to the wall. Scott was able to dodge it with a timed jump. He leapt back up to Cassie's cage while the witch was distracted and punched out the lock. It fell to the floor in a heavy lump. As much as he wanted to get Cassie out of there, he couldn't ignore the boy. He leapt to the other cage and did the same to the second lock.  
“Pests that have traveled here,  
I rid of you in this sphere.  
Elements, hear my call,  
Remove these creatures,  
One and all!”  
A sphere of purple and red encompassed the witch, flashes of lightning and sparks of fire fried every single insect that was unfortunate enough to be within its reach. Scott and the children were just barely out of its range. “You,” she said, pointing a finger in Scott's direction. A spark shot from her finger and struck Scott before he could avoid it. “There!” She pointed the same finger to the opposite wall.  
Just like before, Scott's body glowed white before the strike and the electricity did not hurt. But, unlike before, it did not electrocute him. Instead, as she pointed to the wall, he felt his body being pulled as if by a magnet. He was projected and slammed into the far wall. “I'm sick of this already,” he said as he began to dig himself out of the wood.  
“Thy's ward of protection may protect thee from simple spells,” she said as the witch walked to a pedestal off to the side of the room. “But I have powers much stronger.” On the pedestal sat a thick book, bound in something similar to patched leather. On the cover was a single eye that looked about the room in a lazy fashion. Winnie pet the cover and said to the book in a loving voice, “My dear Book, can thee provide for me a spell to remove this vile smell-feast?”  
The book opened of its own accord and the pages turned without being touched. When the book became still, Winnie read the page with a wicked smirk. “I knew I could count on you,” she said as she continued to stroke it.  
Scott was finally out of the wall when she turned back to face him. She pulled a long stray string off the sleeve of her dress and began to tie one end. Scott didn't want to wait and see what she was planning next. He jumped forward and scurried across the floor, looking for any allied critters to help.  
“With this knot I seal this hex,  
In your death you will not rest.  
Knots of anger, knots of hate,  
Discord brings your cursed fate.  
I tie this second knot makes two,  
Bringing darkness over you,  
Slander, discord, evil too,  
Destruction falling onto you.  
With this third knot, I do bind,  
Weaving agony in your mind.  
Hex of anger, hex of hate,  
Kill him now, I will not wait!”  
Scott was jumping up, his fist pulled back. His body began to glow white again just as he landed a punch to the witch's pointed cheek. She was sent reeling back and he could hear a noise like shattering glass in the back of his mind. He initially thought that he might have shattered her cheekbone, only realizing too late that it was the ward of protection breaking.  
A searing pain exploded in Scott's mind. He gripped at his head as he fell hard on the ground. His world was darkening at the edges and red spots bubbled in his vision. He let out a cry of pain as he writhed. His brain felt like it was on fire, his spine felt like every nerve was being fried. Tears were leaking out of his clenched eyes. His nails burrowed into his helmet, trying to break through the metal to penetrate his skull. “Strange,” he cried out. Strange!  
…  
Strange was panting with sweat beading on his brow. A single Silence spell and simple protective veil weren't hard to perform—Strange probably could do them in his sleep on a good day—but doing them over and over in a short period of time was straining his already depleted energy. Almost all the children were free. Only three remained and he was grateful. He was finally starting to understand why Wong kept telling him not to push himself. If Strange had not overexerted his energy over the last two days, he would have been able to complete the task at hand without fear of fainting.  
Taking a few deep breaths, Strange started the last seal of Silence. It was sloppy and lacked the precautionary protection, but he didn't have a choice. He needed to finish the job and get out. He knew Cassie was still in the cottage and he had a witch to handle. Scott may be a hero, but he wouldn't be able to completely render a witch defenseless.  
The seal was almost complete when Scott's cry echoed in his brain. It was desperate and full of pain, causing Strange to stumble. Strange shook his head to gain his bearings before replying, Scott, what's wrong? What's happening?  
She's killing me...!  
Strange dug his fingers into his head as Scott's pain carried through the mental link. I'm coming—hang in there! He was out of time. Delicacies were thrown out the window as he bypassed any more Silence seals. He instead overpowered the trance with the Winds of Watoomb, forcing the souls back to their bodies. It wasn't going to be a pleasant waking for them, but it wasn't life-threatening. That was good enough for Strange.  
With all the children gone, Strange rushed to the cottage. As he flew across the field, he clapped his hands together before pulling them apart. Orange tendrils of light formed in his grasp in the shape of a whip. He used the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak to break open the door before he charged in.  
He did not immediately find Scott, but instead saw a young witch wielding lightning at her fingertips. She looked like she was about to strike at something on the ground when Strange caught her attention. It was then that he saw Scott's small form tossing back and forth on the ground. Strange's steely gaze hardened as he whipped at the witch, the burning tendrils tearing at her clothes but missing flesh as she stepped back.  
She growled in anger. “What pile of dung did you spring from?”  
Strange whipped at her again and again, sending her further back in the room as he moved to stand over Scott. He dismissed his Crimson Band and summoned the Sphere of Seraphim to surround him and Scott. He got down on one knee and carefully picked Scott up to rest him in his palm. Scott either didn't have a chance to show Strange that he was aware of his presence or was in too much pain to notice. Far from him on the floor, he could see a worn thread knotted in three places. The knotted thread could signify one of five options, but Strange was quick to measure which was the most possible.  
He clenched his teeth and carefully examined Scott's aura. It was erratic and spiked with pain but there, right at the edges of it, was the black hue of a hex. Strange focused on it. He used his other hand to hover over Scott as he cast an Annulment spell. Like water on a fire, the black magic slowly doused until it was a light grey then disappearing entirely. Scott stopped writhing in his grip. Strange fell on his end and clamped his mouth shut as a wave of nausea hit him like a hurricane.  
Thanks... Scott's voice was weak and his breath ragged.  
“No problem,” said Strange between his own deep breaths.  
Meanwhile, the witch had not been waiting idly. She had retrieved her book from the pedestal and now held it in her hands, skimming through the pages. “I will not allow thee to interfere!”  
Strange scoffed at her indignant tone. “We already have.”  
Realization dawned on her face and she looked out her broken door. One hand clasped the book to her chest while the other rung at her hair. “My children! What have you done?!”  
Strange scowled. “I've set them free.” He pushed himself onto wobbly legs, making sure to keep his hand steady so Scott wouldn't get tousled.  
“You'll pay for this!”  
“No,” said Strange, voice hard. “You kidnapped these children and you hurt my friend. You will pay for that.” Strange's eyes widened as he spied the book in the witch's hands. “The Spell Book of Chernabog?”  
“If you know my Book then you know my power. Thou hath no chance.” She stopped on a page and began to chant the print.  
Strange refocused his efforts on his protective sphere. To his dismay, his hands began to tremble at the effort but he dismissed it. He didn't want to be unprepared for whatever incantation would come from that book.  
Get prepared for anything, he warned Scott.  
Wish you said that earlier, Scott replied. What is that book?  
The Spell Book of Chernabog. The vilest book of sins, seconded only to the Darkhold. It supposedly contains the recipes for the most powerful and evil spells. I never believed the rumor about it being bound in human flesh until now.  
Wait, wait, wait! It's made out of human skin? That's disgusting!  
Really? Of everything I just said, that's the part you focus on?  
“On this fated autumn's day,  
I will end this child's play.  
I cast unto thee this black flame,  
Thy skin will burn, body maim.  
Nothing will hold back my might,  
I will make thy soul ignite.”  
From her extended hand, a black inferno erupted, shooting straight for Strange's shield. The impact was strong and hot. Strange pulled his hands to his chest and turned his back on the attack, using any means necessary to make sure Scott was safe in case the sphere did not hold. The light of the glyphs flickered in threat of collapse. Strange made a snap decision and pressed his open hand to the sphere. Using his voice as a crutch, he did a quick enchantment of his own. The Deflection spell activated quickly, firing the black flame back to its source.  
The witch stopped her attack and quickly chanted,  
“Time for amends and victim's revenge,  
Cloning power now turned sour.  
The power to change hath turned strange,  
I'm rejectin' your deflection.”  
The fire vanished, instead replaced with a harmless plume of smoke that filled the entire room. Strange covered his mouth to try and prevent the smoke from entering his lungs. In his other hand, he could feel Scott moving.  
I think I can move now. I need to get Cassie out of here.  
I can't break their trance and fight her at the same time. Before we can save Cassie, I need you to get that book away from her.  
I can do that, was the last thing Scott said before jumping from Strange's hand.  
Strange focused on the battle at hand. His protective sphere was shattered and the witch was already reading through the book for another incantation. Strange's world was teetering. He wouldn't be able to keep the offense up for long. He had to make his own distraction—stall until the next attack.  
“How's a mere wench get her hands on the Spell Book of Chernabog?”  
Her face flared an angry red. “'Mere wench'?! I am the strongest witch in this world. The devil himself gave me my Book!”  
“The devil himself?” asked Strange, incredulous. “Please! That's ridiculous.”  
“You dare question me?”  
“Everyone knows that book was written by—“ Strange paused as realization struck him. “You're Winifred Sanderson. History had it that you and your sisters disappeared. So this is where you've been hiding.”  
“I've been strengthening my powers for years,” she said with a snarl. “Don't you dare underestimate me, you fopdoodle.”  
Had it been any other situation, Strange would have laughed at the dated insult. “You disappeared 300 years ago. How could you have survived all this time?” His gaze lingered on the shifting colors of her aura.  
“I'll do whatever it takes to survive,” said Winifred, unaware of Scott climbing the wall behind her. “Steal children, kill people—it matters not to me.”  
“Even kill your own sisters?” asked Strange in genuine surprise.  
“You think me a fool? I would never sacrifice mine own life for my sister's. Only one of us could survive—the rest needed sacrificed.”  
A burning rage flared within Strange as he thought of his own late sister. “Ant-Man, stay out of the way!” He swept his hand in front of him, a red line of mystic energy forming in front of him as he summoned the Daggers of Daveroth. The red energy shifted until it took the shape of fiery knives, flying straight for the Sanderson sister.  
The spell was too quick for her to cast a deflection. She instead flailed her arm and rained lighting to try and stop the attack. Most of the blades were destroyed but two were able to hit their target: one piercing her shoulder, the other planting into her arm.  
“You wretched—“  
“I've got it!” Scott hopped from an ornament on the wall onto Winifred's shoulder then onto her hand. He grabbed the book and jumped away, taking the book with it.  
Winifred screamed. “My Book!”  
Before she could follow or further react, Strange summoned the Shackles of Sheol. Magenta bands erected from the ground and wrapped the witch from her ankles up to her shoulders, sending her toppling over with a scream. Strange barely finished the spell before his own body toppled and he fell. Both his and her body almost hitting the floor at the same time.  
“Strange!” Scott released the Pym Particles and reverted back to his normal size before racing to Strange's side. Strange was blinking up at him and shaking himself awake.  
“I'm all right,” he was quick to dismiss. He looked over to Winifred to make sure the spell was still holding. Though still contained, the witch was smiling. “Get that book out of here.”  
Scott hesitated but nodded before racing out the destroyed door, book in hand.  
Strange pushed himself onto his knees and caught his breath. His head was spinning and his head was churning but he didn't have time for that right now. He just focused his effort on glaring at the woman in front of her. “Something funny?” he asked.  
Her smile widened. “Hush, Strange.”  
The effect was instantaneous. Strange felt a coldness wash over him. His body became stiff and it became difficult to breathe. He tried to speak but his voice was gone. Even the Cloak of Levitation was struck still.  
“By Demons and Beasts,  
By all living and deceased,  
I curse thee Strange, thy life shall cease.  
Heaven cannot be your place,  
Thou flesh and blood now be erased.  
Hell for thee from its inner core,  
Thou soul is damned forevermore  
This black curse, this black power,  
This shall be thy final hour.  
To thee who hath brought harm to me,  
My revenge shall manifest physically.  
Blood, pain, from a fiery place,  
Befall thee now, in Hell's embrace.”  
Beneath Strange, the floorboards began to shudder and creak as a red light leaked through. He frantically watched, helpless to do anything as he felt a heat radiating through the floor. The light brightened and its very contact singed his skin. Strange could not speak an incantation nor wave a spell. He was stuck and slowly burning from the outside in.  
…  
Scott barely made it fifty yards before he stopped. He had no idea where to go or what to do with the book. He considered burying it, drowning it in the creek, or even shredding it. However, when he tried to rip out a page, it didn't even crinkle under his grip. He may not know anything about magic, but certainly an evil, magic book needed more than to be buried and he doubted the water would damage it. He looked down at the book in his hands and cringed as the eye stared up at him.  
“You're so gross,” he said, remembering that the cover was made of flesh. “I'd rather hold a maggot than you.”  
It was hard to tell, but he was certain the book was showcasing how unamused it was with the statement. Then an idea struck him. A magical book wouldn't be of much use if it couldn't be read, right? All he had to do was shrink it to the size only an ant could read. As far as he was aware, not even the great Doctor Strange knew any shrinking magic.  
He reached into a pocket on his belt and pulled out a red disc. He dropped the book unceremoniously then threw the disc at the grounded novel. In less than a second, it was shrunk to the size of a household ant. Scott picked it up with his thumb and index, peering at it with a smirk. “Bet you didn't like that, huh?” He shoved the book into one of his sipper compartments then ran back towards the cottage.  
He stumbled over his own feet several times in his run. From the effects of the lightning shocks and the mental torture he suffered, his body wasn't wanting to cooperate with him. He could still feel a burning in his skull, lingering like a persistent dream. In all honesty, if Cassie's soul wasn't on the line, Scott was pretty confident that he wouldn't even be able to stand. It was adrenaline and determination alone that kept him pushing his muscles to follow his commands.  
He was breathless by the time he returned to the cottage and had to lean on his knees to catch his breath. He watched with furrowed brows as a bright red light glowed through the broken doorway. He had no idea what was going on inside and a part of him was telling him not to enter in fear of interrupting something important. But another, bigger part of himself screamed at him to get in there.  
A sudden but recently familiar pressure formulated in the forefront in his mind. Strange was trying to speak to him, his deep voice saying, I may need your help...  
I'm coming! Scott was running again, charging through the front door. He stopped on the threshold, staring in surprise at the fiery sight he saw before him. The floorboards were shaking and splintering and breaking. A lazing heat was pouring through and shrouding the whole cottage in the Hellish light. To his left, the witch was still lying with the chains keeping her still, but she was cackling. To his right, Strange just sat there, staring at him with a red face and smoking clothes.  
Grab the cages, said Strange, get the children out of here!  
Scott didn't understand. Why would Strange speak only through their mental link when he was standing right in front of him? Why was the witch laughing? Why wasn't Strange moving? Meanwhile, the floor continued to break away, full holes forming in the floor. What's going on? asked Scott as he hurried across the room. He could feel the heat through his boots and couldn't imagine how Strange could continue to sit still like that.  
Don't worry about it. Get the children and get out!  
Scott was standing in front of Cassie's cage, but hesitated, not sure how he was going to carry it. He looked over his shoulder at Strange's prone form. What are you doing?  
Don't worry about me—just go.  
Scott didn't like the way that sounded at all. Meanwhile, the witch noticed what he was doing.  
“Back away from my child, swine!”  
“Your child? This is my daughter, you bitch!” He was tempted to kick her face in but Strange's voice again rang in his head.  
Scott, we're on a time limit!  
Scott whirled on Strange, his anger for the witch now directed towards him. Then why aren't you leaving?  
I can't! There was a frustrated sigh. She's put a spell on me.  
You're just going to sit there and die?! Scott couldn't believe it. What, be the self-sacrificing martyr?  
Unless you know any unbinding spells, then yes, said Strange in obvious irritation.  
For someone so smart, you're the dumbest man I know! Scott brought up his wrist which contained his suit's interface. His finger slid across the touchscreen as he quickly altered the settings. You're the one that said that witchcraft isn't excluded to physical interaction. Settings in place, Scott pressed his thumb to the button on his left glove. The enlarging Pym Particles spread throughout the suit's system, their limitations momentarily uncapped.  
Scott's body began to stretch and grow. His pained muscles cried in objection as their inflamed nerves extended past discomfort. He groaned and fought the temptation to release the button. His back pressed against the ceiling, the wood creaked behind him until it gave way. Chunks of wood and banister rained from the ceiling. Scott made sure to hover over the two children so they weren't fallen by the debris.  
“My house! My charms!” The witch continued to yell and whine but Scott ignored her. He held both cages in one hand and used his other to scoop up Strange off the floor. The floor itself split apart, revealing a blazing pit below. The witch was mere inches from the gaping hole, unfazed by the threat. She glared up at Scott's massive form in pure loathing as she began to chant,  
“With the power inside I curse thee.  
May you feel the hurt of three.  
I curse you here, I curse you now—“  
Scott did not stay to hear the rest. He pulled both hands close to his chest and he walked away, his large gait covering tens of yards in a single step. “I don't know where I'm going, Doc,” said Scott as he continued to walk, tearing down trees as he went. He looked over his shoulder and saw the house erupt in a blaze.  
“Just follow Cassie's thread back to her body,” said Strange from his position in Scott's hand. He was finally able to regain movement and he was gripping Scott's fingers for stability. “Once we get to the edge, I'll figure something out.” He paused. “I didn't know you could get big. I feel like that's something you should have told me.”  
“How was I supposed to know you didn't know? So far you've known everything.”  
“Well, obviously I didn't. Maybe next time you should share all your capabilities. You haven't been able to fly this whole time, have you?”  
“Don't act like you don't have secrets—you've been doing things I didn't even know was a thing. How about when you tell me all you can do then I'll tell you all I can do?”  
“How many free hours do you have?” Scott huffed out a laugh. There was a pause before Strange asked, “You wouldn't happen to have another cheeseburger on you, would you?”  
“Sorry, man, you ate my last one.”  
“Damn.”  
In a matter of minutes, Scott was standing at the edge of the forest, staring out into the black abyss. “What now, Doc?”  
“Put us down,” he said, weary. “I have an idea.”  
Scott gingerly set the cages down on the ground and allowed Strange to step off his palm. Once they were safely set, Scott corrected the settings on his interface then shrunk himself to normal size. He fell back on his end, using his arms to prop himself up. His body felt thin, strung out. He released the clasp on his helmet and opened the faceplate. He breathed in the unfiltered air with a giant breath. His head was light and his thoughts fleeting. He was on the verge of passing out but he fought the temptation.  
As Scott regained his bearings, Strange was at the cages, opening the doors and helping the souls out of them. He was tending to the boy first, helping him stand. Scott couldn't hear what the good doctor was saying to the boy, but he could tell that Strange's smile was genuine. As he spoke, he made dramatic gestures with his hands, all while wearing the calmly rational expression of a surgeon.  
The boy's soul glowed bright and then he disappeared in the blink of an eye.  
“What did you do?” asked Scott, standing. He lumbered over to where Cassie was lying on the grass. He sat down next to her and pulled her into his lap. She didn't respond at all to the jostling.  
“I just helped him find his way home. He'll feel a little uncomfortable in his own skin for a few days but he'll be fine.”  
“What about Cassie?” asked Scott, fully concerned. Her spirit hardly had any light left to it. As he stroked her hair, sometimes his fingers couldn't find solid contact, instead slipping through her ghostly body.  
“We need to talk about her,” said Strange, his brow wrinkled in worry.  
Scott's gut twisted. “What about her?”  
“We need to get out of here first. Once we're out, we'll talk. I can carry you both, but you'll need to shrink down for me. Can you do that?”  
Scott was reluctant in letting go of Cassie. He wanted to ask Strange why he couldn't just do another flying bubble, but he felt he already knew the answer. Instead, he nodded. Strange crouched and carefully took Cassie into his arms while Scott shrunk down to his ant size. It was harder than he expected, his body quickly reminding him of its strain. He definitely wouldn't be able to shrink any more for the rest of the day. With great effort, he leapt up and landed on Strange's shoulder.  
“Ready?” Strange asked more out of courtesy than curiosity. His cloak began to flutter and then they were lifted off the ground. They soared through the darkness in silence straight until they reached Cassie's mirror, it’s light a shimmering beacon in the darkness.  
“Thank God,” Scott found himself saying, only to be interrupted by an inky tentacle reaching upwards towards them like a cracking whip. Scott screamed and almost fell from Strange’s shoulder. “The Abba thong!”  
“Abthalavuun,” Strange corrected in a hiss as he veered his path to avoid the creature’s reach. He flew back sharply, then went left and right in a zigzag motion. “Hang on tight.”  
“A little late for that one!” Scott clung desperately to the collar of Strange’s cloak. His muscles were screaming and weak. He couldn’t hold on. His grip was slipping. “Strange!”  
There was a rush of words—whispered and hoarse—before there was a blinding pink light. Scott lost his grip and fell, plummeting into hard ground.  
To his surprise, he found himself rolling across plush carpet. When the world around him stilled, he looked up to see the familiar string of lights decorating the high walls of Cassie’s bedroom. He groaned loudly as he reverted himself back to his original size.  
“Stay in the protective seal,” Strange said.  
Yeah, like I’m going anywhere, Scott retorted from his spot on the floor. His vision was bleary but he was able to identify Strange as the crouched over him, Cassie’s soul still in his arms.  
Remembering that they were on a time limit, Scott forced himself to stand, stumbling back down more than once, and took Cassie from Strange’s offered arms. Once Cassie was safe in his hands, the sorcerer waved his hands, encasing all three of them in a purifying white light. The lingering pain in Scott’s skull completely faded. Even Cassie’s soul seemed to burn brighter.  
“Thanks,” Scott said as he looked up to Strange’s eyes. He gawked when he saw blood running down the older man’s noise and ears. “Whoa! Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine,” Strange dismissed in a heavy breath and pushed him off the seal. As soon as their feet left the circle, blue tendrils reached up and encased the mirror, completely covering its now solid glass surface. “The portal is closed and sealed. I’ll send someone to gather this later.” He took a second to catch his breath and use his sleeve to wipe the blood off his face. “It will be safer stored in my Sanctum.”  
Scott had no argument there. And as much as he wanted to press the issue of Strange’s condition, there was a more pressing matter that needed addressed first. He clutched Cassie close to him and fell more than sat on her bed. “How about Cassie? Do we take her back to her body?”  
“That may not be as easy as it sounds,” said Strange.  
“Why not?” Scott bit the inside of his cheek. “The other kids did, right? Went back to their bodies?”  
Strange crouched down on the floor in front of the bed, not wanting to loom. “Scott,” he said slowly, voice severe, “she's lost most of her soul.”  
The words were like a weight in Scott's stomach. Tears immediately welled in his eyes. “Is...is she going to die?”  
“No,” Strange assured. “But, her soul, it...” He massaged his hands as he stumbled for the right words. “It won't feel comfortable in her body anymore. It will be like a child trying to wear her mother's shoes.”  
“I don't understand,” said Scott, his grip on Cassie tightening.  
Strange spoke slowly, calculatingly. “Her soul may very well slip out of her body. It may be able to come back, it may not. It could happen any time or any place.”  
“What—?” Scott shook his head. He couldn't understand. How does one's soul just leave? “What can I do? How can I help?”  
“There is one thing you can do.” Despite Strange assurance, his expression was dark. “But I need to ask, what are you willing to do?”  
“Anything,” Scott said before Strange finished the question. “Anything and everything. What can I do?”  
Strange gestured towards Cassie. “She and you, your souls are practically identical. This is rare, even for a parent and child.”  
“What does that mean?”  
“That means, I can tether her soul to yours.”  
Scott blinked in confusion. “What, like, two souls in one body?”  
“No, no. It will be more like tying a boat to a dock. The boat may move on the waves, but it can never leave. If her spirit slips from her body, it will be drawn to you. You can then help her find her way back. As she gets older and her soul gets more comfortable in her body, she'll no longer need the tether.” Strange chose not to mention that the latter statement was just in theory.  
Scott weighed the option. “Will it hurt her?”  
“No, it won't. She'll feel lost, but all of it will come naturally, like one forgetting a memory then remembering it again.” Strange put his scarred hand on Scott's shoulder. It did not tremble. “I promise you, Scott, she'll be fine. It will require some getting used to, but, if she's anything like you, I'm 100 percent certain that she will be fine. And this,” he motioned between his and Scott's foreheads, referring to their mental link, “will remain open. You can contact me immediately if anything happens or if you have questions.”  
Scott couldn't measure or put into words how very grateful he was to Strange. He could feel tears prickle his eyes and had to look away before Strange could notice. “Thanks,” he said in a shaky breath.  
Strange pulled his hand back and he frowned. “It's the least I can do.”  
“I need to change,” said Scott absently. He couldn't walk into the hospital as Ant-Man.  
“You can set Cassie down,” said Strange, motioning to the bed on which Scott was currently sitting. “The portal is closed and the house is purified. She'll be safe.”  
Scott hesitated, but he believed in Strange. He set Cassie down carefully, petting her hair once before going to change. As he passed Strange, he noticed the doctor subtly leaning against one of the supports for the bed's canopy. “You're free to raid the fridge downstairs,” Scott said. It wasn't exactly his house to offer, but he didn't really care what Paxton would say about it.  
Strange considered it before saying, “I'll do just that.”  
Scott groaned as he bent down for his bag. His body had never been so sore—not even during his initial training with Hank. When he straightened back up, his head spun and a wave of nausea almost knocked him off his feet. “Whoa...” He took a moment to regain himself, shaking his head. As he looked down at his clothes in his bag, he grimaced. “This is not going to be easy.”  
Several long minutes passed before Scott wearily pulled on his shoes, finishing his attire. He didn't remember his sneakers being so heavy. He let out a sigh as he leaned against Cassie's bed. He was originally standing when he started dressing himself but somehow he ended up sitting on the floor with his back up against Cassie's mattress. He opened his eyes, not remembering closing them.  
“Shit,” he said as he pushed himself back into a stand, using the bed's banisters as a crutch. Strange wasn't in the room.  
“Cassie,” he said as he stroked his daughter's cheek, “I'll be right back, peanut.”  
He stumbled his way down the stairs and made his way into the kitchen. There, he saw Strange using his elbow to lean on the island in the middle of the room. There were several wrappers scattered on the surface and the floor and an apple was in Strange's trembling hand.  
Scott laughed out his nose. “Were you hungry?”  
Strange looked up like he just realized Scott was there. He finished chewing his bite of apple before saying, “What gives you that impression?” He glanced around himself, eying all the wrappers to energy bars and granola bars and snack cakes alike. “These were already here.”  
“Right,” said Scott, amused. “I'll be sure to tell Maggie that. Feeling better?”  
“I feel great,” he said, standing straight. His steely eyes looked Scott up and down.  
Scott squirmed under the doctor's gaze. “What is it?”  
“You're not looking too good,” said Strange as he pushed off the island and moved back towards the upstairs bedroom. “There's a few activities I can recommend, a new change in diet—“  
“I'm not cutting burgers,” interrupted Scott as he followed Strange up the stairs.  
“I suggest you get some multivitamins; focus on Vitamin C. When was your last physical?”  
“Hey, man, I feel great. Don't need to go all 'doctor' on me.”  
“I am a doctor,” said Strange pointedly. He stopped at the top of the stairs and had a bowl in his hand filled with blueberries. He offered Scott the bowl then entered Cassie's bedroom.  
“Right, right,” said Scott as he accepted the fruit. He stared at the blueberries in scrutiny. He didn't see Strange holding anything other than an apple earlier. “Where did you get these?” When did Strange get rid of the apple?  
Strange didn't answer the question as he made his way to Cassie's bed. He gingerly pressed his hand to Cassie's forehead, an orange glow emitting from his hand. Her spirit brightened. Strange looked over at Scott. “Are you ready?”  
Scott shoved a handful of blueberries in his mouth and nodded, setting the bowl on Cassie's drawer. “What do I do?” he asked after swallowing.  
Strange gestured for him to get closer, his hand not leaving Cassie's brow. “First and foremost, stay calm. I want you to close your eyes and think of your love for Cassie. Try and throw all your love at her.”  
Scott nodded and stood next to Strange. “I can do that.” He let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes. He thought of Cassie, thinking of how he felt the day she was born. He mentally put himself back in the hospital next to Maggie's bed, holding his newborn baby girl as she cooed in his arms. He thought back to her first birthday when she sat in front of her cake, laughing at the single candle with icing already on her face. He recalled seeing her for the first time since he had gone to prison, her smile when she saw him and how adorable she looked in her birthday dress.  
Scott's loving nostalgia was suddenly wrapped with a childish wonder. It was so unexpected and wonderful that Scott felt tears falling down his cheeks. His eyes opened. Though he was surprised by what he saw, he was not alarmed.  
Strange was crouched on the ground, one hand tenderly holding Cassie's spiritual thread. The other was holding a string of light pulled from Scott's chest. Strange's face was hard with concentration, his gaze unmoving and his hands purposeful, like a surgeon sewing sutures. Only, this time, he was tying together two souls. Strange had threaded Scott's string around Cassie's like a beautiful braid. Strange then grasped the intertwined strings in a strong grip. Pink light shined through his fingers for a brief second before Strange let go. The two threads were now one, as if that was how it was always meant to be.  
Strange was swirling his finger over the conjoined threads, a small pink glyph hovering over them. His gaze flicked up to Scott before hastily returning back to his work. “How do you feel?”  
Scott took a second to internally evaluate his body and all the sensations it was currently feeling. He felt youthful, almost rejuvenated with his own body's aches falling on the back burner. Everything felt so subtle it was easily ignored. The only blatant difference was a slight weight on his shoulders. It wasn't burdensome, but definitely noticeable. “I feel heavier. But it's, I don't know, natural?”  
Strange smiled. “You're burdened with the weight of two souls now. Don't worry, it will make you stronger in the end.”  
“What, like, super strong?”  
“It's not a physical strength,” said Strange with a hearty scoff. He finished his handiwork and stood. “It's done. Let's get her back to her body, shall we?” He was already circling his hand to open a portal.  
Scott was moving to pick up Cassie. “You're gonna be fine, baby,” he said to her.  
“Wait,” said Strange. “They won’t see Cassie in your arms—you'll just look weird. Let me carry her.”  
Scott's extended hands clenched into fists and he pulled away from her. “Okay.”  
The portal was finished, but it was far from perfect. It didn't land on even ground and the sparks seemed to fluctuate unsteadily. Strange quickly massaged away a headache then gingerly picked up Cassie in his long arms. “Lead the way.”  
As the two made their way into the hospital, they had to step up into the portal. They arrived in a hallway in the pediatric wing, just outside the large room in which Cassie resided. Their sudden appearance scared a poor night orderly who dropped his bedpans in his fright.  
“Sorry,” said Scott to the young man. He stepped aside and let Strange follow after him.  
The two made their way into Cassie's room and they were met with a cacophony of voices and laughter. All the children were awake, playing with one another or bonding with their parents. Nurses and a couple of doctors were running about, checking on all of them and keeping them together. Only two children were still in bed, one was the boy who had been in the cage next to Cassie, and Cassie. The boy was at least awake and smiling up at his parents, undoubtedly telling them what he could remember from his dream. Cassie, on the other hand, was still sleeping.  
Maggie was next to Cassie's bed, looking like a complete wreck with Paxton too lost in his own suffering now to be able to offer comfort. Dr. Vitani was on the opposite side of Cassie, looking over the screens and checking her charts. She was saying something that Scott couldn't hear, but he could tell from his position that she was troubled. Probably by the fact that Cassie was the only one who had not yet woken up.  
Maggie's tired eyes caught sight of Scott and Strange walking towards them. She slapped Paxton on the leg and he also glanced at them. Dr. Vitani followed their gaze and turned just as Scott and Strange walked up to the foot of the bed.  
“Mr. Lang,” the doctor greeted with a nod. Then her dark eyes landed on Strange and they lingered. “Strange?”  
Strange looked back at her, realization slowly dawning on his face. “Vitani.”  
Her brows furrowed as she looked at his attire. “What are you wearing?”  
“Why is that always the first thing people ask?” He turned his steely gaze down to Cassie's physical form. “We'll catch up later. Cassie comes first.”  
“What are you going to do?” asked Maggie, her voice a mixture of desperation and disbelief.  
“You guys have been gone for hours,” said Paxton, sounding more angry than anything else. “What have you been doing?”  
Scott said nothing, vaguely gesturing to the woken children around them. “We've been busy.” Though he was finding it hard to believe they were gone for hours. Maybe one hour, but several?  
Dr. Vitani was listing off everything she had tested and all the results she found (or couldn't find). Strange nodded as he listened, but he was obviously distracted.  
“Don't worry,” he said to her. “I know exactly what to do.”  
Scott watched as Strange gently laid Cassie's soul into her body. There was a strange overlap as Cassie's spirit got re-acclimated to its host. Then, in a second, Scott could no longer see it. Cassie's soul was finally safe in her body.  
Instantly, Cassie's pallid eyes fluttered and she stretched as if waking from a long sleep.  
“Cassie!” Maggie was standing and immediately hugging her daughter, Paxton awkwardly hovering over as he waited to get his own hug. “Cassie, oh my God!”  
“Mommy?” asked Cassie, confused.  
Dr. Vitani couldn't believe what she saw. After all, to her and everyone else, it looked like Strange just dropped nothing but a load of air on top of Cassie. “What did you do?”  
Strange looked at her with a cocky smile. “Just performing miracles. It's what I do. I'm a miracle-maker.”  
“No, seriously, what did you do?” she asked, not entertained by his jokes.  
Strange gestured for the door. “Let's find somewhere quiet and I'll explain.”  
Before the two doctors left, Strange put his hand on Scott's shoulder. “Let me know if anything happens.”  
Scott offered a thumbs-up. “Have fun.” That was definitely a conversation of which he did not want to be a part.  
At least half an hour passed with tearful exchanges and long hugs. Just as Strange said, Cassie seemed very lost and confused. She didn't know where she was, she struggled to remember simple facts and how to move her limbs. Maggie did her best to explain what happened to Cassie, at least the parts that she witnessed. Cassie didn't seem to remember any of it.  
“I had this weird dream,” she had said, groggy. “Daddy was there.” She smiled a toothy grin at Scott who was sitting at the foot of her bed. “He saved me.”  
“Sounds like a good dream,” said Scott, hopeful.  
Cassie frowned. “It was scary at first, but when Daddy came it got better.”  
Paxton reached and patted her on the shoulder. “It's good to know your daddy's always there for you, kiddo.”  
“Yeah,” she said in a yawn.  
Maggie was staring at Scott. She lowered her voice just above a whisper and asked, “What did you do? Did you do your—“ she did a shrinking motion with her fingers, “thing?”  
“It was mostly Strange,” admitted Scott. “I'll explain everything after we get Cassie home.”  
Maggie understood Scott's wanting to make it a private conversation and dropped it. Scott was grateful. He wasn't ready to tell Maggie about the witch and Cassie's damaged soul. The nurses had checked her vitals and everything else that had earlier been haywire, but there was no sign of any physical abnormalities or damages.  
“It's a miracle,” said one of the nurses. “A medical miracle.”  
…  
“Thanks, man, for everything,” said Scott as he shook Strange's hand.  
It was well into the morning of November second and all of the children who had suffered the Halloween Havoc, as the news had called it, were free to go home. Scott was standing outside the UCSF entrance with Cassie at his hip. Ever since she regained her bearings enough to walk, she hadn't left his side. He assumed it was their newfound spiritual link. Maggie was obviously bothered by it, something he couldn't blame her for, but she didn't say anything.  
Strange had concluded his long conversation with Dr. Vitani and looked dead on his feet. He shook Scott's hand lazily in return. “I only wish I could have done more.”  
“Don't say that,” said Maggie. “I may not know what happened,” she gave Scott a momentary, pointed look, “but I know you had a huge hand in saving Cassie. Thank you.”  
Strange seemed bothered by Maggie's display of gratitude. “You're welcome.” He crouched down so he could speak to Cassie on her level. “How are you feeling, Cassie?”  
She shuffled shyly but she smiled. “Good.”  
“Good,” said Strange, smiling. “Can you do me a favor?” She nodded. “Can you take care of your daddy for me? He's a good man but he's lousy at eating right.”  
Scott groaned and Cassie laughed. “Yeah!”  
“Good. And take care of your mommy, too, okay? She loves you a lot.”  
Cassie looked at Maggie. “I love Mommy.” Maggie beamed and smiled back at her daughter.  
“Good. Take care, Cassie.” He stood and straightened his robes.  
“Heading back to New York?” asked Scott.  
“Yes. I'm sure Wong's come up with a long laundry list for me to do.”  
“I remember Wong. How's he doing?”  
“He's, well, Wong,” was Strange's response. “Will you need a ride back to your apartment?”  
Scott shook his head. “No, I've got a ride.” He gestured to the parking lot just as Hope was driving up in her car. “She's been calling me all night. I figure I'll fill her in on the ride home.”  
“Daddy's coming over today!” said Cassie's as she pulled on his hand.  
“Yes, sweetie,” said Maggie. “Daddy's going to come over and then fill us in on what happened.”  
Scott squirmed. “Yep. It's going to be a fun day.”  
Strange breathed out a laugh. “I don't envy you.” He brought up his hands and opened one last portal that led straight to his bedroom back in his Sanctum Santorum. “Take care.” Then he disappeared as the portal closed around him.  
“Wow!” Cassie was pointing and laughing. “Was that magic? I want to see it again! Daddy, can I see it again?”  
“Maybe another day, sweetheart.” Scott ruffled her hair. “For now, let's all just go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's finished. In the spirit of the holiday, my third chapter decided it was going to corrupt itself, leaving me to have to write it all over again. Sorry for the wait and for the poor quality that is this very long chapter.  
To those who don't know, our guest star antagonist is from Disney's Hocus Pocus. In the film, the Sanderson sisters use a spell book given to them by the devil but it is unnamed, referred solely as Book. Since the spell books in MCU's Doctor Strange all have names, I gave Book a name.  
Chernabog is featured in Disney's Fantasia as Disney's version of the devil, the very representation of pure evil. Since Disney produced/created Ant-Man, Doctor Strange, and Hocus Pocus, I figured it logical to continue to use Disney references.  
Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I really hate bringing in OC's for a fanfiction, especially since this particular fandom has SO MANY. So, if canon characters won't cut the necessities for the story, I typically like to drag characters from other fandoms into my fics for some extra entertainment. This can probably be seen as a triple-crossover but the main focus is Doctor Strange and Ant-Man. Try to think as this villain (Dr. Vitani, too) as a cameo. I'd like to see who all will recognize her by the end, though her identity is probably obvious at this point. Here's a hint, it's a classic movie for the Halloween season—thus her cameo in this Halloween fiction. I hope you enjoy her presence.  
Also, don't drink away your sorrows, kids.


End file.
